


Far from Home

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, post season three finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:30:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 22,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6983119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comings and goings, around the world and around Australia. Who will be found where--and when?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a l-o-n-g work, so it will be coming in bits and pieces! I hope for your patience.  
> I love your comments and reviews.  
> I also love Jack and Phryne and the entire ensemble, although they are not my characters. They're pretty agreeable about doing what I tell them to do, though.

Dr. Elizabeth MacMillan was enjoying working alongside Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, in the absence of the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. Mac loved her old friend, of course; but when she was around, the Inspector had largely been a shadow to the bright light that was Phryne. With Phryne gone, Mac was able to learn more about how the DI’s mind worked. She had realized early in the game that he was very intelligent (she refused to add “for a police officer”). He didn’t engage in as many hunches or flights of intuition as Phryne did: Mac soon discovered that he had schooled his mind to follow each piece of evidence in a logical, methodical fashion. It fit very well with the way she approached her medical work, whether at the Women’s Hospital or now at the morgue. 

She had seen flashes before of his wry sense of humour, but again it was usually only as a reaction to Phryne that she had seen it in the past. Now that it was just the two of them, she and the Inspector found that they had a similar approach to difficult situations, and both sometimes engaged in “gallows humour” to get through the worst times in their respective jobs.  
Mac’s respect for the Inspector grew as she learned to know him better. It seemed he might be there for the long haul in a way no man had ever been for Phryne, and for that, Mac appreciated him; especially since it seemed as if, for the first time in a very long time, that was something Phryne wanted. 

Many weeks had passed since Phryne Fisher had flown out of their lives. Mac was seeing the signs of strain in Inspector Robinson: he was quieter, more formal than ever, less accessible. It was uncomfortable to watch him wall himself off.  
He finished with the body he had come to examine. “Not quite as obvious as a guillotined head, but still fairly cut-and-dried,” he observed dryly as he pulled the sheet respectfully over the face of the deceased. As if talking to himself, he mused, “I’ll have Collins finish up with this one. He can use a new challenge.”  
Mac smiled approvingly. Her regard for the Inspector led her to take a risk. “Are you done for the day, then?” she asked as a preamble.  
He gave her half of a smile. “I’m done _here_. I don’t need to hold you up any longer. I’m sure you’d like to be on your way home.”  
“And what about you?”  
“Me?” The Inspector seemed surprised at her question, but answered gamely, “Oh, there’s always paperwork to be done…” He laughed at himself. “Although I procrastinate as much as possible.”  
“Inspector,” Mac said baldly, “I think you should have dinner with me.”  
“I—dinner?”  
“You’ve heard of it. A meal, eaten in the evening.”  
He scowled at her, and it gave her license to grin even more broadly. “Well?”  
“Dinner? I do seem to have heard of it.”  
“That may be,” Mac continued, “but do you actually partake of it? A mutual friend may have mentioned to me that you don’t always remember to eat.”  
Jack thought uncomfortably of having had to tighten his belt another notch that very morning. He couldn’t help being busy, could he? Just then the penny dropped. To Mac’s great amusement, it seemed to be occurring to the Inspector for the first time that Phryne and Mac might speak of him when he wasn’t present. “Phryne said that? What else do the two of you—”  
“Oh, you don’t really want to know,” Mac interrupted with a smirk.  
He blinked. “No, perhaps I don’t,” he said, trying to imagine what else Phryne could possibly have to say about him to Mac.  
“But you _do_ want to eat,” Mac reminded him, grabbing the trilby she had worn that day, “and so do I; and if we hurry, we can get there in time to enjoy some good whiskey with our meal.”  
“And beat the six o’clock swill?” he laughed. He made his decision. “All right, you’re on. Where are we headed?”  
“I know a lovely pub not far from here.”  
“Can I give you a ride, then?”  
“Certainly.” She made a face. “They’ll be so delighted to see me show up with a man!” The Inspector only shook his head and said nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

They walked into the ladies’ lounge, and the Inspector pulled out a chair for Mac. “Well! Thank you, Inspector!” Mac said. “That’s a rare treat. I usually pull out my own chair. Can I pull one out for you?”  
“Not necessary.” He deflected her sarcasm easily. “And I think, if we’re drinking together, you’d better call me Jack.”  
“Very well. And please call me Mac—I prefer it.”  
The waiter arrived, took their drink orders, and handed a menu to Jack, then withdrew. Jack smiled slightly and asked, “Would you like to look at the menu? Or do you already know what you’d like?”  
“Typical,” Mac said. “If I were here alone, they would consider me capable of selecting my own meal.”  
Jack handed the menu to her, and suggested, “Perhaps we should shock him and have you order for me.”  
Mac regarded him with a sly grin. “I’m beginning to think all that time with Phryne has rubbed off on you!”  
To add to her pleasure, Jack asked Mac for her recommendation since he hadn’t eaten there before. By the time the drinks arrived, they had decided on their selections and were ready to order. Jack looked at Mac, to allow her to order her meal, then ordered his own. The waiter wasn’t sure why Mac wanted to order for herself when there was a man with her: however, he accepted her order without comment. 

They found that conversation came easily. Both were well informed, readers by nature, and although Jack did not have the advantage of university training, he could converse about much of the science that Mac mentioned because he was naturally curious and kept up with new discoveries.  
As the evening went on, Mac relaxed and told some anecdotes about her life, and she mentioned a woman she was currently seeing. Although she was cautious in what she said, a regretful look passed across Jack’s face. “Be careful, Mac. Don’t forget what I am,” he said softly, but with a clear warning.  
“I know exactly what you are,” Mac said firmly. “A ‘rather civilized detective’, as Phryne once said. You’re an honest cop who doesn’t prosecute vice unless it’s a necessary part of an investigation. I know what you did for Charles Freeman.”  
“I did nothing. It’s Phryne who did something for him.”  
Mac gave him a look. “We both know better than that. You know, I think that might be when she first fell for you.” She managed not to laugh at the shock on his face, to hear her state it so plainly. Before he could answer, Mac went on, “I won’t put you in a tough position, Jack. You’ve had ample opportunity to make a case against me if you felt you needed to—in fact, I know very well you had the opportunity long ago when you arrested me after the murder at the factory. But I knew from the look in your eyes, that day, that I’d be treated fairly. And I’ll do all I can to save you from any moral dilemma.”  
“Good. Thank you,” Jack said simply. They toasted each other and drank.  
Mac thought to herself that men were very odd, and she was sure she was better off without them. But this one, she would admit, seemed to show promise of distinguishing himself from the pack. 

The thoroughly enjoyable evening passed quickly. At last Jack suggested, “Perhaps we should be going. I believe they’ll be closing before long.”  
“Remarkable! _Tempus fugit_ , as they say,” Mac laughed.  
Jack signaled to the waiter to bring the check.  
Mac started. “Oh, no you don’t! You wouldn’t possibly be thinking of paying for my meal, would you? You can put that right out of your head,” she asserted.  
“But—”  
“No. I won’t hear of it. I invited you, I should be buying your meal. But I don’t suppose I could convince the waiter to give _me_ the check.”  
“It’s been a very pleasant evening, Mac, I’d be happy to—”  
“I won’t hear of it, I said.” She pulled out some money and handed it to him.  
“All right. Thank you,” Jack said equably. Mac was grateful that he accepted her need to pay her way. He paid for their meals, and they collected their coats and hats and headed outside. 

“May I drop you at home?” Jack asked.  
“I would appreciate that,” Mac told him, and gave him directions.  
When they arrived at the building where Mac maintained a flat, Jack asked, “Shall I see you to the door?”  
“Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake!” Mac laughed. “No, thank you, Jack, it’s perfectly safe here. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to get out of the car—I can open my own door, too.”  
Jack didn’t mind the ribbing. “If you’re sure. Mac, it was very kind of you to invite me, and I think you were right—I need to get out of my routine now and then.”  
“Oddly enough, Inspector, I never said that.”  
He smiled. “Oddly enough, Doctor, you didn’t have to.”  
Mac had a warm feeling as she opened the car door and got out. As if on cue, Jack asked, “Are you sure—”  
“I’m sure. Thank you, Jack. It was lovely.”  
“Good night, Mac.” She made her way up to the building. He did not drive away until she was safely inside the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Dearest Phryne, 

I had to write and tell you about the pleasant evening I had with your Inspector. I decided he needed to eat something, as he’s looking a bit drawn these days. I think he’s losing himself in his work as you told me he used to do. Don’t you think perhaps you’d better come back home and get Mr. Butler to feed the poor man?  
Since you’re not here to do that, I decided to take your place and invited him to join me at the pub. I wasn’t sure he’d accept, but I’m glad to say he did. I think he needed a change of pace.  
He’s a good man, Phryne, and you know that means something coming from me. We’ve worked together on a number of cases. There was an especially ugly one not too long ago—but I’d rather forget that one. Even our well-seasoned Inspector struggled with it.  
There haven’t been any with flair, though; no circus acts gone awry, no magic, no ghosts, no madmen. It’s as if the criminal element of Melbourne is waiting for your return. I can’t say I miss those cases, but I do miss you. I can see that Jack does, too, although he doesn’t admit it to me.  
I hope things are working out for your parents, after you went to all this trouble. Melbourne isn’t the same without you, and I’d gotten used to having you around again.  
I hope you’ll be coming back soon.  
All the best,  
Mac

Before Mac could imagine her letter could possibly have reached England, she received a telegram. 

_“Had enough of England stop Missing Melbourne and all the ones I hold dear stop Making plans to come back but not by air stop Will send more information later stop Please tell Jack stop Phryne”_

Mac was amused. She and Phryne always did seem to think along the same lines. 

Mac was pleased to think of her friend returning. Now how would she tell the Inspector? Would she wait till he was called to the morgue on a case? That seemed a little cruel, it might be several days. Should she call him at his office, or better yet, march up to his office to tell him? That might be the thing. She decided to go to his office the very next day. 

Mac strolled into City South. She saw Hugh Collins at his usual post at the front desk. “Good morning, Constable!” Mac said boldly. “Is the Inspector in?”  
“Er—yes, he’s in his office—I can see if he’s available, if you don’t mind waiting, Doctor,” Hugh managed, though he was rattled to see the doctor from the morgue in his lobby. He never knew quite what to make of Miss Fisher’s friend, dressed in men’s clothing, and so sure of herself. She was a puzzle to him. He was glad that she had proven herself to be so kindhearted to Miss Fisher, and helpful to Inspector Robinson.  
“That will be fine,” Mac said with a smirk. She waited only a moment before Hugh came back, with Jack following.  
“Mac!” he exclaimed. “This is unexpected! Isn’t this meant to be the other way around?”  
She smiled. “I don’t have any bodies for you today. But I have some information that you will find useful.”  
“In that case, please come on back to my office,” Jack said pleasantly, leading the way.  
Once inside, Jack went around to the other side of his desk and sat down. Mac sat across from him. She pulled a paper from the inside pocket of her suit jacket. “I have a telegram that may interest you.”  
He looked at her quizzically but remained silent, so she teased, “It’s from Phryne.”  
“Phryne! Is she all right?” Jack asked hurriedly.  
“She’s better than all right. She’s making plans to come home.”  
If there had been any hope of getting a letter to Phryne before she left England, Mac would have written one describing the expression on Jack’s face when she told him. She thought she could fill a page at least.


	4. Chapter 4

Phryne had made unusual travel plans for her return to Melbourne. She had found contacts to fly her as a passenger part of the way, thanks to her experiences and connections from flying to England with her father. She traveled by rail when it was convenient. The last leg of the journey would be made by sea, but she had still shortened the length of the trip considerably.  
There were a number of charming and eligible men sharing the voyage with her. She didn’t shy away from enjoying a meal _a deux_ or cutting up the dance floor; but when she went out to gaze up at the stars from on deck, she just had to rebuff anyone who tried to join her. She would look into the darkness and remember the shooting star she had seen the night of Dot’s wedding…how lovely the night had been, and how near Jack had stood, always close at hand when she needed him. She couldn’t share that time with anyone on board. She knew it made no sense but she didn’t care. It soothed her spirit. 

She spent considerable time planning her triumphant return once they docked. She had telegraphed to Mac again just before she boarded, once she had a fair idea of when she would arrive in Melbourne. She tried to imagine what her arrival would be like. Who would come to the dock to meet her? Would Jack be there? Would he wait until she was at home? When would they see each other again?  
She had to laugh at herself whenever she reached this point. After all these months, it was obvious to her that her thoughts flew to a certain policeman far too frequently for her to pretend that it didn’t matter. She was beginning to come to terms with the idea. She didn’t have any idea where they were headed, but she might be ready to take the first step toward finding out. 

Days turned into weeks, and at last she saw the port come into view. The weather and all conditions had been favorable, and the liner was arriving early. She had been making plans ever since she realized that they would be coming into port sooner than expected.  
She could arrange to have her luggage sent on to St. Kilda, if no one was there to pick her up so early; and she could find a taxi to take her to City South. It might be early in the morning, but chances were good that Jack would be in his office. If not, nothing was lost; she would continue on home, having left the constable on duty with instructions to let the Inspector know that she had stopped there first. 

As she had expected, her arrival very early in the morning caught everyone unawares. No doubt, once they all awoke and began to look into the shipping news, they would discover that her ship had arrived, but she would be on her way home already. It was a good feeling that warmed her through. 

Once she had disembarked, Phryne made all the arrangements she had planned while docking. She sent her luggage on to Wardlow, and found a sleepy cabbie to take her to the police station. “Police? Why? What’s wrong?” he asked in confusion.  
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said happily. “It’s—an official visit.” The cabbie was too tired to ask any more questions, and he delivered her in a short time to City South. She paid him well. He looked at the money she gave him, and asked, “Do you want me to wait?”  
She smiled saucily. “No. I may be awhile.” 

She breezed into the lobby and past the front desk. Despite the early hour, Hugh Collins was there, and he looked at her with astonishment—then tried desperately to stop her from barging into the Inspector’s office.  
“Miss Fisher! Miss! Wait, Miss—please, listen to me this once, Miss—”  
Of course, Miss Fisher did not wait, nor did she listen to Hugh, even this once. Later, when she looked back on this moment, how she would wish she had.


	5. Chapter 5

Filled with anticipation, Phryne pulled open Jack’s door, ready to surprise the man she’d been longing to see, and to find out if he had been longing for her as well.  
“Well! And what might I be able to do for _you_?” said the man behind the desk with a leer. 

Phryne was momentarily speechless. She thought her world may have turned upside down.  
The man she had expected to see was dapper, trim, and intelligent. The man she saw was untidy, with a belly hanging over his trousers, and a slightly empty aspect in his eyes. He was the complete antithesis of the person she wanted to see there.  
“I’m—I’m sorry, I was looking for Inspector Robinson,” Phryne finally managed.  
“He’s not here. But I’m sure I’d be happy to help you with _anything_ you need,” said the man who dared to be sitting at Jack’s desk, while continuing to leer.  
Suddenly his face changed; a thought dawned on him. Phryne later thought to herself that it must have been an unfamiliar occurrence. “Wait a minute! You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the one who got Robinson in so much trouble!” The impostor straightened his tie and sat up a little straighter in Jack’s chair. “Maybe I can understand why, now that I see you.”  
Phryne fixed him with her best glare. “What do you mean, trouble? What trouble? Inspector Robinson never told me about any trouble. And where is he? I’d like to talk to him, not a—substitute.” Her voice dripped with condescension.  
“You can talk to him all you like. Long as you don’t mind going to Sydney to do it,” the unpleasant person behind Jack’s desk said.  
“Sydney!” Phryne was struggling to sort out what had happened.  
“But I’m sure I’d be happy to help, if there’s anything you need _investigated_.” He managed to make it sound utterly obscene.  
“If there’s anything I need investigated—I’ll investigate it myself. I’ll see myself out.” She turned on her heel and walked to the lobby, where Hugh was hovering. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Phryne hissed.  
“I tried! You wouldn’t stop! Didn’t Dottie tell you?” Hugh whispered.  
Phryne sighed. “I didn’t stop at home. I came here first. Oh, what a mess! What on earth has happened?”  
“Collins? What are you up to? I don’t pay you to gossip,” came the voice from down the hall.  
“I’ve got to go,” Hugh said. “I can’t lose my job now that Dottie and I are married, and the Inspector isn’t here—that is, Inspector Robinson isn’t here—to help me. Inspector O’Shaughnessy doesn’t care if I have a family to support.”  
“O’Shaughnessy!” Phryne’s lip curled. “All right, Hugh. Come for dinner tonight. I’ll go home and talk to Dot.”  
She headed to the door and was almost through when she heard the unpleasant occupant of Jack’s office yell at Hugh, “Robinson’s bit o’ skirt left yet?”  
“Miss Fisher just left!” Hugh lied happily. He looked apologetically at Miss Fisher, who rolled her eyes and slipped out the door. 

On the street outside the station, Phryne looked for a cab. To her delight, she saw Bert and Cec pulling up at the corner. “Welcome home, Miss!” Cec said happily.  
“Not much of a welcome in there, I reckon,” Bert said with a frown. “And here’s me, thinking the Inspector was a pain in my—” He wisely stopped himself. “I mean, this one really takes the biscuit. Poor Collins.”  
“How can I be so lucky as to run into you two?” Phryne asked. She was thrilled to see them both.  
“We were at your house when your luggage arrived. When you didn’t arrive yourself, we put two and two together and headed up here.” Bert told his story with a bit of pride. Miss Fisher wasn’t the only one who could detect.  
“I’m glad you did! Let’s go home. I need to see my house, and Dot, and Mr. Butler, and you both can join us for some tea.”


	6. Chapter 6

Phryne let the cabbies take her to Wardlow. How wonderful it was, to see her home. Her _home_. The place where she belonged, the place she had made for herself. Mr. Butler came to the door, and she was wreathed in smiles at the sight of him. “Oh, Mr. Butler, how wonderful to see you!” she sang.  
Dot was not far behind, and she hurried to hug Phryne. “Oh, Miss, it’s so good to see you! I’m so happy you’re back!” She stood back and examined Phryne. “But—you’ve been to the station…?”  
“Yes, I spoke to Hugh—and that dreadful man in the Inspector’s office…I invited Hugh to come to dinner, so that we can talk about it.” She waved her arm to encompass everyone in the room. “In fact, let’s have a reunion celebration! I’ll call Mac and see if she can join us—Cec, bring Alice—”  
“And you should call Mrs. Stanley,” Bert ordered.  
“Of course!” Phryne laughed.  
“That’s just what you need, Miss! A real welcome-home party!” Dot beamed.  
Phryne smiled back at her, but Dot knew her well enough to see that it was only an imitation of a smile. It would not be quite the welcome home Miss Fisher had been imagining. 

“Mac! It’s me, I’m home,” Phryne said as her dear friend answered the phone.  
“Oh, Phryne. Darling, have you talked to anyone else yet?” Mac asked with concern.  
“Yes. I know, Jack’s in Sydney. But I don’t know why. Do you know anything?”  
“Me? No one tells me anything. I’m just the morgue doctor. I didn’t even realize he’d left town until a body from his jurisdiction was delivered and no one bothered to come to see about it. I called Hugh Collins to ask what was going on. Have you talked to Hugh about it?”  
“No, not yet. He’s coming to dinner. That’s why I phoned you, by the way. It’s a welcome-home celebration.” She sighed.  
“That’s a good idea!” Mac said a little too heartily. “Just what you need!”  
“Yes. I want my friends around me tonight,” Phryne agreed, softly. 

“This is Prudence Stanley speaking,” came the answer to Phryne’s next phone call.  
“Aunt P! I’m home!”  
“Phryne! Oh, I’m so happy to hear your voice. Welcome home!”  
“That’s what I’m calling about. Come for dinner tonight, Aunt Prudence. We’re having an impromptu get-together, and I’d love to see you. Can you come?”  
“I can and I will. I look forward to seeing you, Phryne.”

At the appointed hour, all the invitees gathered at Wardlow. Everyone wished Phryne a happy welcome home, and Bert led a toast in her honor. “Hear hear!” they chorused, and Phryne thanked them all. But in the next breath, she plunged into what she couldn’t wait a minute longer to learn. “Hugh. You must tell us. What has happened to the Inspector?”  
Prudence looked around the room in surprise. She had thought something was odd about the gathering.  
Hugh began to explain as best he could. “I don’t know as much about it as I’d like. I know the Inspector got a call from the Commissioner, and he didn’t have much time to make any arrangements. It seems like the Commissioner’s mind was made up, and he had decided what was going to happen. Inspector Robinson didn’t have much choice.”  
“But why would they send him to Sydney?” Phryne pried.  
“Sydney!” said Mrs. Stanley.  
“Oh, Aunt Prudence, I forgot you wouldn’t know about this. Jack’s been sent to Sydney on a case—at least I hope it’s just one case…”  
“So do I, Miss!” Hugh said wholeheartedly. “Or Dottie and I may have to move to Sydney, too!”  
“Oh, no, we’ve got to get Jack back to Melbourne!” said Mac. Phryne beamed at her. “For a _number_ of reasons,” Mac continued. “I can’t be expected to work with that idiot they’ve replaced him with. He doesn’t know anything or care about anything except getting the job done as quickly and easily as possible, and home by suppertime. You wouldn’t see _him_ working the late shift, or going undercover, or anything else we’ve come to expect.”  
“We’re keeping our distance from City South. Can’t count on any kind of fair treatment there now,” said Cec.  
“But I don’t understand what’s happened. Wasn’t Inspector Robinson doing his job successfully? He solved so many cases that I knew about—with your help, of course, Phryne—I just don’t understand why they wouldn’t want him to stay here,” said Aunt Prudence.  
“None of us do, Ma’am,” said Hugh. “Although…” He winced slightly. Dottie must have kicked him under the table.  
“Although what, Hugh?” asked Phryne. Perhaps there was a clue.  
Hugh and Dot communicated through a complicated series of frowns, sighs, and rolled eyes; but Hugh ended it when he said, “I know what I’m doing, Dottie.” He turned back to Phryne and said, “I might have an idea, but it involves police business. We can talk about it privately later.”  
Phryne’s spirits lifted at the thought that there was a puzzle to work on, and if it would get Jack home, all the better! “I appreciate that, Hugh! And now—let’s enjoy the evening. I’m so happy to be with all of you. I’m sure we can solve this problem together!”  
They all enjoyed the lovely meal and congenial company, and a good time was had by all—although the guest of honor was a little quieter than she might otherwise have been.


	7. Chapter 7

Eventually the party slowed, and guests left one by one, wishing Phryne well as they exited. Phryne found herself left with Hugh and Dot. She was grateful that they had stayed, and hoped that Hugh would tell her his idea about why Jack was sent away. “Well, Hugh. Tell me what you think is going on, that they would send Jack to Sydney.”  
Dot frowned at him, but Hugh said firmly, “Miss, I don’t know for sure. I just worry—he was reprimanded again the day you left for England.”  
“What? Reprimanded? Why? He always does excellent work, I can’t imagine why he would be reprimanded,” Phryne said with irritation. “And what do you mean, _again_? Don’t those fools in the Commissioner’s office recognize a good policeman anymore?”  
Hugh was slow in answering Phryne, so she prompted, “What reprimands, Hugh? That awful O’Shaughnessy said Jack got in ‘so much trouble’, too. What is this all about?” 

Hugh took a deep breath. “Well, Miss, it was usually something to do with you—that is, working with you—I mean, working with a civilian, or getting his picture in the paper, or being seen all over town with you…” Hugh started to blush. He had thought he should tell her, but it wasn’t easy.  
“Me!” Phryne seemed taken aback. “I know it’s unorthodox, for a detective inspector to work with someone who is not on the force…Is that what the whole “Honorary Constable” business was about?”  
“He was ordered not to investigate with a civilian, Miss,” Hugh said honestly.  
Phryne couldn’t hide a smile. “And that was his solution! Oh, Jack,” she said, wishing he were there to hear it.  
Dot spoke up, having been silent to this point. She hadn’t been convinced that Hugh should say anything, but maybe he had been right. “Miss, that sort of thing happened more than you know.”  
Phryne’s smile faded. “And you think he was sent away because of it? But surely, that’s strange treatment, isn’t it? For a highly successful Detective Inspector?”  
Hugh made a face. “I don’t know for certain that that’s the reason. But I’m not sure they always remember to think about our successes.”  
Phryne was beginning to feel angry. “I’d like to go tell that Commissioner what I think about that!”  
Dot and Hugh both spoke up. “Oh, no, Miss, don’t do that!”  
“No, I suppose it would cause more harm than good. But I have to do _something_.” She looked up. “Hugh. Do you know where the Inspector is staying? Anything about where he can be found?”  
“All he had was a hotel address—he gave it to me before he left. It was all such a hurry, he didn’t have much time to tell me anything. I think he wanted me to give it to you, in case he wasn’t back when you got here.”  
That was a lovely thought. “All right, Hugh. You get me that address, please. I’ll have to think about how to handle this. But don’t worry,” she said at the distressed looks on Dot’s and Hugh’s faces, “I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll be careful.”  
Hugh sighed, in a way that was reminiscent of his mentor and superior officer. “All right, Miss.” 

After they concluded this conversation, Dot and Hugh made their goodbyes and headed for their home. Phryne walked into her parlour and looked around. How lovely this room is, she thought. She curled up in her favorite chair, and within a few minutes Mr. Butler walked in with a pleasant-looking mixed drink on a tray for her. “A little something to relax you, Miss?” he asked kindly.  
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Butler,” she said, taking the drink. “What is it?”  
“A concoction that Mrs. Butler came up with. We never really named it, but it seemed to help when…things didn’t go the way we had imagined they would.”  
Phryne was filled with gratitude for Mr. Butler’s tactful ways. “I don’t suppose I could bear it if you had brought me a whiskey,” she said softly.  
“No, Miss,” he said kindly. “Good night, then—if you won’t be needing me any more tonight?”  
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you. Good night, Mr. Butler.”  
Phryne sat in her chair, curled up in a ball, as she often did when she felt downcast. The drink was soothing, but it didn’t make up for the absence of the man she wanted to see. He should be standing before her, with a wry smile on his face, damn it! But she had managed to wait this long, she would manage a few days more. A few.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Phryne woke late and ever so slightly hung over. That was some potent drink Mr. Butler had given her! She was grateful to be in her own lovely house, in the boudoir that she had arranged to suit her style completely. She stretched like a cat, and heaved a large sigh. Moments later, Dot knocked gently at her door.  
“Come in, Dot,” Phryne invited. 

Dot came in with a big smile, a tray piled high with toast and a teapot full of Phryne’s favorite tea. She set it down and went to open the curtains. “It’s a lovely day, Miss,” Dot said.  
“Oh, Dot,” Phryne said, “It’s so grand to be here again. I’ve missed you all so much.” She sighed again.  
Dot looked her way with a sympathetic expression. “Have some tea. That always helps,” Dot said. Phryne nodded, and accepted the teacup that Dot offered her. She patted the bed beside her, and Dot sat down. “Do you have any plans for today, Miss?”  
“No. Nary a one,” Phryne said with a self-deprecating laugh. “When I first returned to Melbourne, I had plans to see to Murdoch Foyle, and almost immediately became embroiled in one crime after another. I never imagined I would come back and find myself with no idea of what to do. I suppose I could go see Mac…she’d be working, though. Or I could go see Aunt Prudence.”  
Dot hesitated, then spoke her mind. “Or you could travel...”  
A slow smile spread across Phryne’s face. “Or I could travel.” She reached for Dot’s hand. “You know that is exactly what I have been pondering. And I _will _see Mac. And I’ll call that hotel that Hugh told me about, and see what’s what. I need to take action!”__

Phryne strode into the morgue, dressed in bright, powerful colors. Mac looked up from her latest cadaver. “You look—cheerful,” Mac said.  
“I feel cheerful,” Phryne said.  
“Do you?” It wasn’t what Mac had expected.  
“Yes. I am planning a line of attack. It’s just what I need.”  
“Would that line of attack involve a trip to Sydney?” Mac asked with a cheeky grin.  
“I think it will. I wanted to come see you, first, to see if you have any ideas about why Jack was sent away.”  
Mac set to cleaning some instruments. “As I told you, no one bothered to even inform me that there would be someone taking his place—although ‘taking his place’ is hardly an accurate description. That idiot in Jack’s office is a sham! He sits behind the desk and sends his constables to do everything. Delegation is a fine thing, but this is dereliction of duty.”  
Phryne laughed. “Listen to you! Another convert to the Jack Robinson fan club!”  
“So? What are you going to do?”  
“I’m going to find him, of course. It turns out that I’m…” She paused. “I’m rather a convert to his fan club myself.”  
“This is Mac you’re talking to,” her dear friend said, “and frankly, you were the first convert. It just took you longer to admit it.” She smiled. “So how will you go about finding him? Sydney isn’t a small town.”  
“I’m a lady detective, silly! Unless he’s undercover, it should be easy enough to find a detective from out of town.”  
“Really? Easy? I’m glad to hear it.” Clearly Mac did not think it would be easy at all. “Well, bring him back, however you do it. I’ve got another unclaimed body here, and no expectation at all that O’Thingummy will come to see it. I suppose he’ll send Collins as usual, and that poor boy has such a tendency to get sick…”  
“Mac! That’s perfect, give Hugh a call and tell him you have a body—and then ask him for the hotel information Jack gave him. That will save me from having to go to City South and cause trouble for Hugh, or see that terrible man in Jack’s office.”  
In short order, Phryne was walking cheerfully out of the morgue—only fitting, since she had entered it cheerfully, to the astonishment of any passers-by. 

She returned to her home, and went to the phone. It seemed unlikely that Jack would be in his hotel room in the middle of the day, but she tried it anyway.  
“I’m sorry, there is no guest here by that name,” she was told. The line crackled as the clerk spoke to her, and she struggled to make out what he said.  
Phryne asked, “Will you please check again? He was meant to stay there while he’s working on a—client. Working with a client.” She wasn’t sure how much he would want known to the hotel. “I’m sure this is the number.”  
The clerk looked carefully, and came back to the phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am, there is no one here by that name.”  
Exasperated, Phryne pushed, “All right, _was_ there someone staying with you by that name? Look back—maybe he left for some reason.”  
“Oh! Yes, here it is. He checked out last Monday.”  
“I see,” Phryne said, although she certainly did not. “No—forwarding address, I suppose?”  
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry.”  
“All right. Thank you.”  
Now what? Could he already be on his way back? It wouldn’t take that many days to travel home from Sydney. Or was there some other explanation? The only thing to do was to contact all the police stations until she came up with the one where he was working. But the quality of the long-distance phone calls was so poor, it was frustrating. How could she be expected to run an investigation this way? She had little information and all her clues were dead ends.  
She sighed. “It’s hardly the first time,” she thought. “But usually there is someone to talk it over with me, to join me in hashing it out, to suggest another viewpoint. And most of all, usually there is someone who would listen.”  
Phryne straightened and gave herself a little shake. “There’s only one solution,” she decided. “I’ll go to Sydney and see for myself.” She went to find Dot, to ask her to look into travel arrangements while Phryne planned her wardrobe for a trip of undetermined length.


	9. Chapter 9

Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, late of Melbourne City South, had been giving all his attention to the murder victim lying in the middle of the alley. The constable with him had arranged for the body to be taken to the morgue, as soon as the Inspector had one last look at the body _in situ_. He crouched down, and took a final survey of the corpse before respectfully covering it with a sheet. As he did so, he became aware that a pair of legs had appeared beside him.  
Could it be possible to identify a woman by her stocking-clad legs? It might be, if one was as fond of a pair of legs as Jack was of these. Besides, what other pair of legs would be likely to show up at his crime scene—even if he was in the wrong city?  
He let his eyes roam slowly up the body that was attached to the legs. “What in the—Phryne?”  
“Jack! I’ve been looking all over for you!”  
Jack rose as Phryne bent to crouch down beside him. They both stopped awkwardly in the middle, and Jack, wearing a bit of a smile, took Phryne’s arm to raise her to a standing position again. Her expression, when their eyes met, was one of delight, and he imagined his must be similar. “What are you doing here?”  
“You’re a hard man to find,” she said. She couldn’t help herself. She stroked his lapel, and teased, “If you didn’t want to see me, you didn’t need to go to such lengths.”  
He shook his head. “This was nothing that I planned!” His corpse forgotten, he took her arm and moved toward the police cruiser that was only a few steps away.  
“Which is your hotel? Can we go have tea? And you can catch me up on your case.”  
“I’d be glad of some tea, but I’m not staying in a hotel,” Jack answered.  
“What do you mean, not in a hotel? Are you staying with friends?”  
Jack laughed sardonically. “No, no friends of mine. I was in a hotel at first, but the investigation dragged on, and it was decided I didn’t need to stay in such fancy digs.”  
Phryne was incensed. “So that’s it! Hugh told me he knew where you were staying, but when I called, they didn’t know where you were.”  
“Hugh! How is he doing? Is he getting along all right?”  
Phryne smiled at Jack’s concern for his protégé. “Well, he’s not happy. But he’s getting along… probably better now that I’m out of the picture. Oh, my, I don’t believe I’ve seen that scowl since I first met you!”  
“I don’t scowl,” he said, scowling. 

“Jack, what on earth happened? What have you been keeping from me? Hugh and Dottie told me you’d been reprimanded for working with me, and that that’s why you were sent here.”  
“What? Collins told you that? What a lot of…” He stopped himself, and heaved a sigh. “I try to encourage him to think for himself, and this is the sort of thing he comes up with.” He shook his head in amazement, and then explained, “Phryne, I was sent to help out. They are very short-handed at the moment, and they were stymied by a case. I solved a case very like it several years ago, so they called on me. That’s all there is to it.”  
Phryne expressed innocent surprise. “Oh! You solved crimes before I came along?”  
He played along, having greatly missed these conversations. “A few.”  
Phryne turned it around. “You were, in fact, highly successful.”  
Jack challenged, “That’s very kind. But how would you know that?”  
Her smile was sweet as sugar. “I investigated you.”  
While he was sputtering, she went on pursuing her original point. “So…you weren’t reprimanded because of me?”  
“Well…ah…that’s not why I’m here.”  
Phryne pinned him with a glance. “But you _have_ been reprimanded because of me?”  
“Er…” He played for time, trying to find a truthful way around it.  
“I thought as much. Why didn’t you tell me?” Phryne asked with a bit of pique.  
“Because I didn’t want you to know,” Jack said, as if it should be obvious.  
Phryne blinked. “Oh. That’s honest,” she allowed. “And designating me a Special Constable? And my badge—which I still carry, in case of need—” she opened her purse to display the small Buffalo Bill badge pinned inside—“that was all because I got you into trouble again?”  
He would have none of it. “I didn’t have to designate you a Special Constable. In fact, if I wanted you out of the way, that would have been the perfect time to do it.”  
Phryne tilted her head, and put her hand on his arm with a sweet smile. “Don’t be silly. When has that ever stopped me?” They regarded each other fondly.

“Let’s go find some tea. Then you can explain all this to me,” Phryne suggested.  
Jack opened the police cruiser’s door and assisted her entry, then crossed to the driver’s side. “No Hispano today?”  
“No. I took the train.”  
“Ah. You’ll have to make do with my driving, then,” he said smugly.  
“Small sacrifices must be made,” she agreed.

“Where are you staying?” Phryne asked as they drove.  
“A boardinghouse.”  
“What? Those cheap skates. Let me get you a room at my hotel.”  
“Phryne, no. I can’t do that.”  
“But how can I talk to you in a boardinghouse? You’ll have to come and have dinner with me. I’m at The Russell Hotel.”  
He shook his head in amusement. “You have a habit of arranging to feed me.”  
“Someone has to. You don’t seem to remember to do it yourself.”  
“Of course I do.”  
“Do you? When did you last eat today?”  
He pondered, but he took so long to answer that Phryne moved on. “Never mind! Let’s find that tea!”


	10. Chapter 10

Once they were seated, Phryne said, “You know, I never meant to cause you any trouble.”  
Jack’s eyes widened before he could stop himself.  
“Jack! I may enjoy making your life difficult, but not your career.”  
He raised one eyebrow.  
“I mean, I may find it challenging to match wits with you, but I don’t mean to...”  
At the latest look on his face, she abandoned it all. “I like solving crimes with you and I don’t care who knows it, and I don’t want to do anything to make you lose your job!”  
When he laughed, she went on. “Honestly, Jack, I know I’ve gotten in the way. And I admit I’ve interfered. And I know I’ve embarrassed you, through newspaper articles, and that dreadful Frederick Burn, and being linked socially with me. But I didn’t know I’d caused you grief with your superiors—well, there was George Sanderson, of course, but I don’t really count him; and then Hugh mentioned this latest one…Oh, dear, I _have_ been a lot of trouble.”  
He nodded seriously. She took the napkin she had been carefully unfolding and threw it at him.  
He handed it back to her with a smile, but the smile faded as he responded. “Phryne, none of that should matter. Not if I’m doing my job successfully. I have been, and all the better with your assistance.”  
Phryne’s curiosity got the better of her. “What is the case you are investigating? I admit, I only had a glance, but—was that corpse in the alley all that puzzling? It seemed that a quick survey of the many rough saloons in that area would turn up someone who was responsible, in a hurry.”  
Jack was fascinated as always by her quick intelligence. “That was exactly my thought. Actually, I was just checking that corpse because I’m at loose ends. I already solved the case they brought me here to help with. It was almost identical to the other case I solved, years ago.”  
“Already solved it! Jack, that’s wonderful. So you will be heading back to Melbourne soon?”  
“Not as soon as I’d like, I’m afraid.” He sighed. “I’ll need to stay to see how the trial turns out, although I may not need to testify. So in the meantime, I’m lending a hand wherever needed.”  
Phryne frowned. “I hope it won’t hold you up for too long.” Not ready to admit her own longing, she said, “Mac is fit to be tied, working with the man they put in your place.”  
“O’Shaughnessy? I shouldn’t say it, but I don’t have much respect for the man. It seems to me that he just slides by on as little work as possible. Be grateful you haven’t run into him.” He watched her face change at his last remark, and he asked, “You haven’t? Run into him?”  
“I did. Oh, Jack, I came to City South right after I arrived back in Melbourne, and there he was. At _your_ desk. As if he had any right to be there.”  
“What? But—why did you go? Surely Dot or Mac told you... the cabbies knew I’d left. Even Mr. Butler.”  
It was hard for her, even now, to admit how anxious she had been to see him. “I…well, I didn’t talk to anyone first. I admit, Hugh tried to tell me when I walked in, but—you know I can be impetuous.”  
He did know. He also knew that she could be cryptic when it came to the relationship that she and he danced around. He doubted that she knew how much she had told him in those two sentences. Even though he was a past master at controlling his reactions, his eyes lit with pleasure at her words.


	11. Chapter 11

The discussion between Jack and Phryne was interrupted by sandwiches and teacakes being brought to the table. They replenished their tea, and tucked into the sandwiches: Phryne daintily, Jack hungrily.  
Phryne asked, “When do you think the trial will be?”  
“Next week, I’m hoping,” Jack said, swallowing a bite first.  
“Couldn’t you return to Melbourne and come back for the trial?”  
Jack shrugged. “It isn’t really my choice, it seems. They’re short-handed here, as I mentioned, and they’d rather have me stay on than go back and forth.”  
“Hmmph! Melbourne’s loss, then. I hope your station won’t be a complete disaster by the time you get back.”  
A wistful expression crossed Jack’s face. “I hope so, too. I know Collins will try to take care of things, but he doesn’t have the experience or the authority to contradict someone like O’Shaughnessy.” He caught Phryne’s eye and, with a gentle smile, suggested, “Perhaps between you and Dot, you can support him till I get back.”  
Phryne liked the idea that he thought she was up to the task, but she had an agenda of her own. “Perhaps. But Jack, I’m not in Melbourne. I’m here.”  
He considered. “Yes, but I’m sure you’ll be returning soon…”  
She gave him a look, and waited for him to put it together. “But I’m here now.”  
He regarded her carefully, thoughtfully. She had to admit, she had missed this very much. That stillness of his: she’d never found it in any other man, nor did she expect to. It affected her deeply to sense it again. They did not exchange a word for some time.  
Phryne broke the silence first. “You will have dinner with me, naturally.”  
That tiny bit of a smile. “It doesn’t sound as if I have any choice in the matter.”  
She raised her eyebrows. “But of course you do, if that’s what you wish.”  
“Phryne, I’m not sure I do have any choice. Not anymore.” Their tea finished, he put his napkin down and stood up. With a wave of his hand, he asked, “Shall we?”  
She rose as well, but said, “Only if you explain what you meant by that.”  
“I meant, shall we leave?” There was a gleam in his eye.  
She laughed. “You know very well what I meant.”  
“Yet _you_ don’t know what _I_ meant?” They exited the tearoom and walked to the car. Jack handed Phryne in to the passenger seat, and crossed to the driver’s side. Once he was settled in his seat, he turned to her and began to say earnestly, “I meant…”  
Phryne’s patience was at an end. In what little privacy was afforded by the car, Phryne reached for him. She was done with waiting, and she wasn’t going to hold back another minute. It appeared he was feeling much the same, for their kiss lasted far longer than she might have guessed Jack Robinson would find proper—in a police cruiser, parked by the sidewalk, in the middle of a large city. In fact, propriety didn’t seem to have crossed his mind. She did not take the opportunity to remind him.  
At last they drew apart, and Jack exhaled heavily. “Yes. That was what I meant,” he stated, while Phryne preened with feminine satisfaction to see him looking so undone.


	12. Chapter 12

They drove to The Russell. Jack got out to open her car door, which she had of course already opened. “Are you coming in?” Phryne asked as he handed her out of the car.  
This was met with a calm smile. “No. I need to tie up some things at the station. But I will come back for dinner. Eight?” he asked, naming the time they usually met when they shared a meal at her house in Melbourne.  
She appreciated that thought. “I’ll look forward to it, Inspector.”  
“As will I, Miss Fisher.”  
The formality they played at made it all the more delicious. Phryne walked away with a spring—and a sashay—in her step, as she was fairly sure he’d be watching. 

She made her way to her suite, and quickly scrutinized all of the wardrobe options available to her. The shops were still open; maybe she should go look for a new _prêt-a-porter_ dress in a department store? She had heard that Sydney had some good ones. Oh! What about the navy dress? The one she had been wearing when her father showed up on her doorstep, surprising and dismaying her, and spoiling all her plans for an evening with Jack. An unexpected choice, but an intriguing one, she hoped. She hadn’t been able to enjoy his reaction to it. But she wouldn’t dress her hair in the same way; that would be too much of a reminder of that ruined evening.  
She busied herself, planning every bit of her ensemble with the care of a military general planning a campaign. Yes, she dressed to please herself, it was true: but this night, it would please her to see pleasure in the eyes of her dinner partner, as well. 

At eight o’clock on the dot (of course), the telephone rang. Miss Fisher had a guest in the lobby. She took one last look in the mirror, patted her hair, made a _moue_ at herself, and declared herself satisfied. 

Jack Robinson was standing in the lobby, hands in his pockets, giving the appearance of being unruffled. It was a useful skill. He heard his name spoken behind him, in self-assured tones: “Jack.”  
He turned, and saw the dazzling Phryne Fisher descending the stairs, walking toward him, to meet _him_. Once again, he marvelled at the idea that such a thing could happen.  
He stepped forward to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, this brilliant, beautiful woman. She took the eye of everyone who passed: she knew it, and he knew it. He let her take his arm, and led her to the dining room.  
They were ushered to a table, and decided on martinis for cocktails. As they waited for their drinks, Phryne enjoyed Jack’s attention, as she had expected to do; yet it seemed to her that he was preoccupied. She wondered, not for the first time, at this business of knowing someone so well. Life certainly seemed easier if one didn’t really need to bother much about the man one was entertaining…“Jack, what are you thinking about? Something about a case?”  
He hadn’t thought she’d notice. It had become harder and harder, he thought, to conceal anything from her. He had forgotten how it felt, having someone so much in tune with his thoughts. He knew there was no point in trying to keep it from her, and in truth, he’d welcome her opinions. “No. Not a case. I had an unexpected offer today.”  
Phryne was clearly puzzled. “An offer?”  
“Yes. After I left you to go back to the station here, the Commissioner asked to talk to me.” He looked away in thought, then back to her. “He told me that there is a Senior Detective Inspector position opening up here in a month or so, and he asked me to apply.”  
“Oh!” Phryne blinked rapidly. “But—it’s the same position you have now. At home. In Melbourne.”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you interested?”  
“I’m not sure. The Commissioner here respects me. It feels good to be regarded as an asset: I don’t get much of that in Melbourne. And I have so much history there—the whole business with George Sanderson, for instance. It was always assumed that I kept my job after the Police Strike because I was his son-in-law, and that’s likely true; it was also assumed that I didn’t really deserve to be promoted to Detective Inspector—”  
“Most definitely not true!” Phryne said hotly.  
“Thank you.”  
Phryne huffed in outrage. “Did anyone bother to look at your record? Or pay attention to the work you’ve done?”  
That earned her a smile. “You probably know the answer to that.”  
“Hmf.”  
“Of course, having to arrest George made me somewhat suspect, as well,” Jack added.  
“Why? I’d think that would prove how honest you are.”  
“Not everyone looks at it like that. There are even some people on the force who think it would have been better if I had covered it up.”  
Phryne was dismissive. “Well, that’s nonsense. That just proves to me how badly Melbourne needs you back. Besides, there are people there who depend on you. I mean, Mac, Hugh, Dot, Bert, Cec, we can’t all move to Sydney.”  
“Bert and Cec?” Jack asked. “That’s hardly on, is it?”  
“Nonsense. Bert adores you. He just doesn’t realize it yet,” Phryne proclaimed.

They finished their meal, speaking of other cases, of other people, of all manner of things. When they were finishing their after-dinner drinks, Jack said solemnly, “I can’t quite believe you’re here, sitting across from me.”  
She took it all in: the earnest look in his dark eyes, the gentle expression on his face, the velvet rasp in his voice. She answered seriously, “I’ve come a long way to find you, Jack.”  
“I never expected it.”  
“Didn’t you?” She loved it when they teased in double meanings, but she chose to abandon them for straight talk. “I don’t suppose I expected it, either. But here I am. And here we are, together after all this time.” She was as earnest as he was, but her next words were unconventional, as Phryne herself was unconventional. “There’s a balcony in my room with a beautiful view of the city. Why don’t you come join me?”  
The expression on his face suggested that he wasn’t completely surprised by her invitation, but he answered, “Phryne. How can I do that?” Obviously, a man could not enter an unmarried woman’s hotel room. Oh, he wasn’t naïve: he knew that it went on. But it would ruin a woman’s reputation. It was not a risk he would ordinarily take with someone he cared for.  
“No one knows me here. Nor do they know you.” Phryne answered the unasked questions. “And as far as how we can do it—why, the same way I do everything. I just do exactly as I wish, as if I have every right to do it, and no one questions me.” Delight showed on her face at the thought of another opportunity to flout convention, especially with the goal she had in mind. She resolved not to say any more on the subject until they were ready to leave the dining room. 

At last they stood and left the table, and walked out of the dining room into the hall. “What will it be, Jack?” Phryne challenged, albeit gently. “Will you come upstairs? Or will I have to stand on my balcony alone, waiting for a suitor to climb up to see me?”  
He smiled at her description.  
Once, Jack Robinson had been a light-hearted fellow. Then he went to War, but he failed to come back the same man who had left; then he was a disappointment to his wife, and his marriage failed; then he existed in a shadowy state for many years, failing to find his way into the light. But then this scintillating woman appeared out of nowhere, and turned his life upside down. If he chose to walk away from her, he feared it might be the worst failure of all: he would have failed to be true to himself. Perhaps it was time to reclaim the man he had been, and to take that first step into the unknown with Phryne.

He made his decision, and offered his arm. “ ‘Come, let’s have one other gaudy night’,” he quoted, in the spirit of her teasing. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slid her hand around his arm, and they walked boldly towards the stairs, as if they had every right to do so.


	13. Chapter 13

As they approached the door of Phryne’s suite, she took out the key to her room and offered it to Jack. As he inserted it smoothly into the keyhole, she murmured, “I can’t wait to show you my…balcony.”  
He struggled to swallow a laugh. “I’m quite an admirer of balconies.”  
“Are you?”  
“Yes. Your balcony has often been on my mind.”  
Her laughter trilled down the hallway—until the door closed behind them.

***

“Let me help you out of this suit of armour.”  
“Shining armour, I hope?” He stood still as she pushed the jacket off his shoulders.  
“Much too often, yes. But you won’t need it tonight. It’s very safe here.”  
“I don’t know about that.” The tie and waistcoat were being dispensed with, as well. “Are you sure it isn’t dangerous?”  
“I’m not dangerous—” he submitted his wrists as she unfastened first one cuff, then the other—“but I think you might be.”  


***

“You know, I always wanted to trail kisses all the way along here…”  
“Always?” he laughed.  
“Longer than you think. And don’t talk, it disrupts me,” she said, making her way from the hint of a cleft in his chin all the way along to his ear.

***

“Be good, Miss Fisher,” he said hoarsely, as she teased him to his limits.  
“I am good. Some people tell me I’m very good…it’s you who are misbehaving…ohhh, Inspector…..”

***

Long moments passed in wordless exploration.  
“There are so many ways I want to please you—”  
“I thought it was my job to please you.”  
Dear man. He managed to be quite open-minded despite the traditional upbringing that reasserted itself from time to time. No matter. She rolled across him, and purred,  
“And you have, and I’ve no doubt you will, even more. But I think it’s up to both of us---mmmm…”  
“Working together? As partners?” He caught her drift immediately. At the same time, he sounded amused and just a bit cheeky, so she moved infinitesimally. “Phryne!” he said on a gasp.  
“What we do best, Jack.” 

***

She woke, uncharacteristically, in the early hours of the day. Her head was muzzy with sleep, and feeling a body next to hers, she fought to make sense of it. Suddenly her thoughts came together, and then she was fully awake, and filled with wonderment. She was spooned up against him, and his arm lay around her waist. She smiled into the darkness, as she listened to his steady breathing behind her.  
She couldn’t resist; she had to look at him. She rolled over, and when she did, he woke almost immediately. He smiled a lazy and utterly complacent smile that almost made her laugh out loud. Well, let him; she couldn’t be happier—except that she wanted more. His caresses indicated that he felt the same way.  
They found each other’s rhythms as easily as if they had long been lovers. It came as no surprise to either one of them.  
They loved again, far from home, but coming home to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had any sense, I’d stop here.  
> \---famous last words


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the question, does pulpriter have any sense?

Phryne woke again later in the morning, when she felt him moving and stretching beside her. She snaked her arm across his chest languorously, curling her body into his and murmuring, “Mmm, Jack…”  
He ran his fingers through her hair, then stroked down her cheek. “Phryne. I should be leaving.”  
“Nooo; why?” she moaned. “It’s so early.”  
“I should check in at the station. And…I shouldn’t even be here.”  
She burrowed into his shoulder. He pulled her closer.  
She gazed up into his face, and as she did, she saw him give a slight sigh. “Jack, stay. You don’t want to leave. No one knows either of us, or knows we’re here,” Phryne insisted.  
“Unlikely,” Jack countered. “There was a constable with me yesterday when you appeared. And I can’t believe no one saw or noticed us, at tea, or at dinner—because you, my lovely Miss Fisher, attract attention wherever you go.”  
She loved hearing her title used as an endearment, but she answered flatly, “So, once again, I may be getting you in hot water with your job.”  
Rather than joining her change in mood, his eyes crinkled with humor. “You can’t really take all the blame when I am such a willing accomplice.”  
This cheered her up. “An accomplished accomplice, at that,” she hummed. She stretched up to kiss him again. A long time later, she said, “You’re serious about leaving, I suppose?”  
“Yes.” He sat up. “We can hardly stay in bed all day.”  
“We’ll have to see about that,” she mumbled, sitting up, herself, and shaking her hair into place. “But not this morning.”  
She leaned over the side of the bed. “I’m sure my dressing gown was here somewhere.”  
Jack happily enjoyed the view of her rummaging around, but honesty forced him to tell her—eventually—“It’s there, on the chair.”  
“Oh! Good,” she said. To his delight, she rose from the bed in all her unclad glory and went to put it on.  
Jack also rose, and stretched, and looked around the room for his clothing, which seemed to be strategically distributed all over the room. He turned back to her, to see her watching approvingly. He was glad of her approval, but asked, “Was there some sort of plan for scattering my clothes everywhere?”  
“Oh, Jack! What a good idea!” He laughed at her as he gathered a few essentials and put them on.  
“Who shall go down the hall first?” Phryne wondered euphemistically.  
“Ladies first, of course. I’ll have to get dressed, in any event.”  
Phryne gathered the items she considered necessary for preparation for the day. Jack was vaguely astonished at the sheer number of things she had—he couldn’t remember Rosie even owning quite so many lotions and potions, but he wasn’t about to object.  
“I won’t be long,” Phryne said with a fay smile.  
Jack doubted it, but didn’t say so. 

 

Once Phryne went to her ablutions, Jack finished dressing, straightening out any wrinkles or creases as best he could. Once he finished that, he pushed his hair into place rather unsuccessfully; it was not as carefully styled as he preferred, but was the best he could do. Phryne likely had a brush or comb he could use.  
He rubbed his hand over his jaw and pondered what he could do about shaving: his beard was quite noticeable. He could hardly walk around the hotel with whiskers like that. Perhaps he would need to sneak out somehow?  
Before he could come up with a solution, Phryne came back to the room. She reached into her cosmetics case and pulled out a comb and a razor.  
“Here. I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s better than going to breakfast unshaven,” she said.  
“Phryne, you’re a wonder! Where did you come up with this?” Jack asked in amazement, holding up the razor and examining it.  
“I’m a modern woman,” she told him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those legs you like so well were shaven?”  
“I noticed it months ago, to be exact—but you’ll forgive me if it wasn’t uppermost on my mind,” he admitted. He took the razor and comb from her hand, and said heartily, “Excellent woman!” He placed a pleased peck of a kiss on her cheek, then turned to take his turn down the hall. 

Once he closed the door, she sat down on the bed with a thump.  
What had she done?  
That was not the kind of kiss she was accustomed to. She expected kisses to be long, to be lingering, to be expressions of yearning desire from the many forgettable men who had shared her bed.  
She did not expect kisses to be like that kiss. Nobody kissed Phryne Fisher like that. It was the kiss of someone whose connection with her was indisputable.  
This was something different, something unexpected, something she had not prepared herself for. Had she made a terrible mistake, to let him in?  
If she had, what was she going to do about it? She had never felt any reluctance before when it came to banishing a man from her boudoir. In fact, she had met a few who needed to be thrown out with very little ado, and she had been happy to see them go. But this man...  
She had asked him to her bed, and he had accepted her invitation. He had called her lovely, and excellent, and a wonder; and their loving had been joyous. She hadn’t wanted to get rid of him in the morning when she normally would have sent a lover away; she had let him stay, tried to prevent him from leaving. Oh, what was she doing? What had she done? And what would she do?  
She gave her head a shake. She would have to sort it out later. Right now she needed to dress, if she wanted to have time for breakfast with him.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack, his hair combed and his face freshly shaved, knocked politely at the door before re-entering. There stood Phryne, dressed in her inimitable style, save for her shoes, which meant she looked remarkably petite.  
“Oh, good, you’re here. Jack, will you check the buttons on the back of my blouse? Something doesn’t seem right—did I fasten them correctly?” She stepped quickly into her shoes, shrugged off the day coat she wore and turned her back to him. He stepped up behind her, and chuckled softly.  
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re just off by one—all the way up.” She felt him quickly unfastening and refastening the five buttons she had struggled to reach.  
“I should have just waited for you. You’re suspiciously good at that,” she accused, reveling in the feel of his fingers at the neckline of her blouse.  
“Years of practice. Amazing that women have the patience for fastenings that they can’t see.”  
“As you well know,” Phryne answered, “I like to be self-sufficient. I’d have worked at it until I got it, if I’d been alone. But—” his hands had slid to her shoulders, and she leaned back against him—“it isn’t all bad to have some help, occasionally.” Oh! He was pressing kisses to that spot right beneath her ear—how could he possibly have known?  
She shivered. “Jack,” she warned, “if you really intend to go to the station today…”  
He straightened and turned her to face him. “I do,” he said, and leaned in for a proper kiss.  
When they separated, Phryne pulled his handkerchief from his pocket with a flourish and handed it to him. “Lipstick,” she said. Decoding her remark, he scrubbed at his face. She turned to a mirror and reapplied her trademark oxblood shade. When she was done, she sighed, “What a shame that we have to leave the room to have breakfast. If I owned a hotel, I’d serve breakfasts right to people’s rooms.”  
“Breakfasts in their rooms? How could you possibly do that?” Jack said on a laugh, as he stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. “Every guest would want something different.”  
“Hmm. I’d serve them all tea and toast, I suppose. Oh, but wouldn’t that be lovely?”  
Jack agreed, adding, “But until you open that hotel, we’re forced to go to the dining room for breakfast. And I would like to enjoy that with you, so, if you’re ready…?”  
They left the room. All the way to the dining room, Phryne puzzled about how she would serve hypothetical breakfasts to hypothetical guests in her hypothetical hotel. Jack was not convinced she would become an hotelier, but had no doubt she could, if she so wished.

They were seated in the dining room and made their breakfast orders. There was a brief skirmish about paying for their meal, and about the one last night; it went against the grain for Jack to allow Phryne to pay. At long last, Phryne ended it by saying, “You let Mac pay for her meal. Why won’t you let me pay for this?” It wasn’t the same thing, not at all—and how on earth had she known he let Mac pay for her meal?—but Jack could see it had become a point of honor and managed to force himself to back down…only after insisting he would pay for breakfast. She agreed just as the tea arrived, which definitely made everything better.  
After some small talk, Jack asked, “What are your plans for today?”  
“I’m not really sure. I came here without knowing what the situation was, so I didn’t plan too far in advance.” Jack thought to himself that she rarely planned too far in advance, but did not speak his thoughts aloud. Phryne continued, “I suppose I could explore Sydney a bit. I’ve never really spent much time here.”  
“You’ve been away from Melbourne for a long time, and left it after only a few days. You’re not missing your home?”  
Home, she thought. Home is an idea that seems to keep changing shape. Melbourne was home—Collingwood, to be exact; then England was home, with its unexpected wealth; then she traveled for years, finding only moments of home; then back to Melbourne, to create a real home for herself, only to leave it for the sake of her parents. At last she had returned to her home, only to find that it wasn’t as she had left it. What is home? What makes it home? She wasn’t ready for some of the ideas that were forming in her head.  
She allowed only this: “I wanted to find out what had happened to you.” She gave a saucy smile and tossed her head. “You, of all people, know that I can’t resist a mystery!”  
He nodded. “But now the mystery is solved, it seems.”  
“Is it?” she asked.  
He considered. “There’s nothing mysterious about me. And certainly not now…”  
“Hm.” She leaned in and cocked her head. “I may need to acquire more evidence to prove that.”  
He had to smile at her outrageous ways. “Spoken like a true detective.”  
That stopped her. Her entire attitude changed. “Jack…I don’t think you realize what that means to me. Or what respect from a man means to any woman. If you weren’t there to support my work, I’d do it anyway, but it would be the same battle, over and over again.”  
Jack became solemn as well. “I can see that. I see it in Mac, day after day. You deal with it in your own inimitable fashion—” a brief smile—“but it is never easy, is it?”  
“You may be the only man I know who would say that to me.” She covered his hand with hers, gently.

Their breakfast finished, Jack checked his watch. “I’ve got to be off,” he said. “You never answered: what will you do next?”  
“I think I will go to the train station, and see about a ticket home,” she said. “You suggested yesterday that Hugh might be needing some support, himself. I can’t really help you here; perhaps I can lend a hand there.”  
“Be careful. O’Shaughnessy’s an odd one,” Jack warned.  
“Ugh. The less time I’m in his presence, the better. Don’t worry about a thing,” she said with an impish grin that belied her words.  
“You see, that’s _exactly_ what I worry about,” Jack sighed. They stopped at the main entrance.  
It would have been a nice moment for a goodbye kiss, and they both thought it; but they were in public, and did not give in. “Will you join me again tonight?” Phryne asked.  
He noted her wording, as she knew he would, but gave no sign of it. “Eight o’clock?” he asked, just as cryptically.  
“I’ll be waiting,” she said.  
His eyes were warm. “I’ll see you then.” He put his hat on his head and walked out into the sunlight.


	16. Chapter 16

After Jack left, Phryne returned to her room and lolled about, hanging up clothes (never her strong suit), brushing her hair some more, poking at her makeup, reapplying lipstick. She was lost in thought the entire time.  
Not being able to bear being cooped up for long, she walked out to the street and hailed a taxi. “The train station, please,” she requested. As she rode along, she observed what appeared to be the main business district, lined with all manner of shops and stores. She tried to imagine what it would be like to live in Sydney; it seemed pleasant enough. She determined to come back to browse once her return train ticket was secured.  
She went directly to the ticket window after being let off at the station. She explained her situation and asked about the next train to Melbourne. The woman in the ticket booth carefully examined her records, then exclaimed, “Oh, you’re in luck, Miss! There’s a place left on a train leaving this afternoon!”  
“Oh!” said Phryne. “Oh, thank you, but I believe tomorrow will be soon enough. I…I have some things I must do before I can leave. What do you have available tomorrow?” She found a train leaving at 9:30 the next morning, and although the early departure didn’t entirely suit her, she bought a ticket. It was a long ride.  
As she left the station, and caught a cab to the shopping district, she pondered her choice. “I couldn’t have left today,” she thought. “I’m not packed, that takes time. Jack is expecting to join me for dinner…and I just couldn’t abandon him to that boardinghouse so soon. I would have had to get hold of him, and what if he was busy and I couldn’t find him before I left? I couldn’t just disappear. No, leaving in the morning makes far more sense.” She was even able to convince herself.  
She had the driver drop her in the middle of the downtown area. She browsed and shopped in a leisurely fashion, her subconscious feelings taking most of her attention as she did. She made her way through the stores, picking up and putting down item after item, all unseeing, to the disappointment of the clerks and shop owners who hoped for more from the obviously wealthy woman who had stopped in.  
One brave soul stepped up to her, and said boldly, “May I help you with the scarves, Miss? I saw you were looking at them. I wanted to show you this one.” She held in her hand a long, silky scarf in a dusky color that would beautifully set off Phryne’s dark hair and alabaster skin. Phryne was only mildly interested at first, but then it occurred to her that the scarf would make a fine replacement for the one that was ruined when Archie Woods attacked her.  
Unbidden, her head was filled by thoughts of Jack, that day, bent at first on inquiry, reaching out one long-fingered hand to examine her damaged scarf—and then allowing his hand to rest against the soft skin of her throat, as if, after all the time they had spent together, he could not resist touching her for a moment longer. She thought of the warmth of his hand, the glow in his dark eyes—“I’ll take it,” she said suddenly, startling the saleswoman, who nonetheless was no fool and who said with alacrity, “Yes, Miss, I’ll wrap it up for you right away—unless you have some more shopping to do, perhaps? We have some lovely stockings, just in.”  
Phryne let herself be led around the shop, and, being ever sensitive to the plight of women who must work for a living, purchased a number of items she had no need of—including a proper man’s razor. 

After leaving with her purchases, Phryne decided it was time for tea. She went into a pleasant-looking tea shop, and although her announcement that she was alone was enough to throw the staff into a quiet uproar, they quickly pulled themselves together. As she nibbled at the petite sandwiches they brought her, she considered what she had seen of Sydney. It seemed a nice enough place. What would it mean, she wondered, if Jack were to come here to work?  
It would be the perfect solution to one issue that might come between them. She had wondered about his reaction if she wanted to see other men, if she and he became involved—and surely, after last night, they were involved. If he were to stay in Sydney, she could do as she pleased in Melbourne. They could travel back and forth to see each other, but they would both be free agents. Of course, her general sense of fair play reminded her that he would be just as free as she was…an attractive single man, intelligent, hardworking, new to town. Why was that unsettling?  
No, it was no good for him to stay in Sydney. She simply could not imagine giving up her partnership with him. No more barging into City South, no more sitting on his desk, no more dinners or after-denouement drinks in her parlour? It was unthinkable. It was all really about their partnership. Sleuthing. That’s why he was so important to her. Wasn’t it?  
She couldn’t push back the truth of the matter any longer. “I haven’t had feelings like this since…no, not even René. I haven’t had them, ever. I don’t know where we’ll end up: I don’t know what he’ll make of it all; and I don’t have any control over how it all turns out.” She waited for the feelings of resignation and surrender to rush in.  
She waited, but she remained calm—at ease.  
“I feel safe,” she marveled. “How can that be possible?”  
There was no one to answer her, so she finished her tea, paid for it, and found a taxi to take her back to her hotel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, a little musical interlude: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvbN8nguIPs  
>  (Natalie’s got some cheekbones, too)


	17. Chapter 17

Phryne found another taxi and returned to The Russell Hotel. On the way to her room, she saw a poster advertising a dance in the hotel ballroom that evening. Marvelous! She had adored dancing with Jack, during the one opportunity he had afforded her to do so. Now she had only to talk him into it this evening.

It was late afternoon; she could have a nap, and still have plenty of time later, to select her clothing and be perfectly made up and ready for her dinner engagement. A nap sounded quite appealing, in fact: she was feeling a little drowsy as a result of her early morning.  
She removed her dress, put on her dressing gown, and lay down on the bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, her senses filled with memories of the night before. She eased into a peaceful, happy sleep.  
At the appropriate time, Phryne woke, but was puzzled to find herself alone in the bed. She had dreamed of him, and her dreams were so real that she was confused when she woke. Regardless, she felt refreshed and enthused about preparing for her dinner engagement. She looked through the clothing that she had brought, and selected a long, narrow dress that flared out at the hem. Her new stockings would be just right with it, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that the new scarf would match, as well. Shimmering colors, and flowy, sinuous fabrics, perfect for the dance floor. She took her time to make sure her hair and makeup were styled to perfection. One never knew about Jack—he had an unhappy habit of being able to resist her. She’d make sure he didn’t stand a chance tonight. 

Eight o’clock arrived at last, and it was no surprise that Jack was punctual once again. Phryne was happily making her way down the stairs even before a call could be placed to her room. He turned to see her, as she came down the last flight. 

When they sat down to dinner, Jack tried to start a discussion about paying for the meal, but Phryne stopped him by saying, “Let’s just do it the same way we did this morning. You can pay for breakfast.”  
He wisely gave up his argument.  
As they were dining, Phryne told him about the dance going on that evening in the hotel’s ballroom. “Take me dancing, Jack!” she said enthusiastically.  
“Dancing?”  
“Any man who can waltz like you do can surely manage a creditable foxtrot or a rumba,” she asserted.  
He didn’t disagree, which seemed to her to be a good omen. With good humour, he simply said, “You do so at your own risk, then.”  
“What’s the risk?” She smiled seductively. “If you step on my feet, you’ll just have to carry me back to my room.”  
“Oh—just in case we have somehow avoided notoriety to that point?”  
“Exactly!” She laughed gaily. 

They found the ballroom easily. It was nicely kept up and decorated in the latest style, unlike the ballroom at The Grand where Jack and Phryne had waltzed. Though her memories of that day were fond, she was happy to find that the surroundings here were more up-to-date. The band that was playing presented a variety of tunes, to suit dancers of all ages. Phryne’s eyes glowed with anticipation, and she took Jack’s hand and drug him onto the dance floor, although he put up only token resistance. 

Phryne was in her element. Just as when they had waltzed in the ballroom at The Grand, Jack led with quiet but unquestioned authority, with a graceful athleticism, attentive to the details of movement that made the dance a pleasure. The dances they danced this night were not as strict or formal as the waltz, and they relaxed into the rhythms.  
Phryne thrived on the freedom of dancing, while still it had a framework, a structure. You could make it your own, add your own moves, even spin away for a time, but then you returned to your partner, who was always there waiting for you. Phryne and Jack danced, dance after dance, took a break for some refreshments, and danced some more. As the evening went on, the music was softer, slower, gentler, and they moved even closer, as the lights dimmed. As a dreamy tune drew to an end, Phryne laid her hands against Jack’s chest and said quietly, “Shall we leave?”  
“Tired?”  
“Not a bit of it.”  
Jack was ready to leave, himself. Two hours of holding Phryne Fisher in his arms in public had him wound taut as a bowstring. He looked deep into her eyes and thought he saw stars there; he wondered if they were reflected back to her in his own eyes. He silently offered his arm, and they gathered their belongings and left the ballroom.


	18. Chapter 18

Upon entering the hotel room, Jack hung up his hat and topcoat. “I’m very fond of that coat, you know,” Phryne said out of the blue.  
“Are you? I’m very fond of it too. Especially because there happens to be a razor in its pocket.”  
She laughed, as he had intended her to. She thought of the razor she had bought earlier in the day, and decided it would be just the thing to keep at home…in case of need. Saucily, she teased, “Jack, you should buy a trenchcoat. Remember how the officers attached all manner of things to the belts and epaulets?”  
“A trenchcoat? No, thank you. I saw enough of those in wartime.”  
“They have big deep pockets: you could carry your gun in one.”  
“I can carry my gun in these pockets. Besides, I need to look professional—I can’t imagine a detective wearing a trenchcoat, can you?”  
“I suppose not.” She stepped closer. “I’d rather imagine a detective removing his jacket.”  
“You might even witness it.” Once again, she offered assistance.  
“—and tie…and waistcoat...why _do_ men wear so many clothes?”  
“I don’t know. I’m simply grateful that ladies don’t.”  
“You made short work of my buttons this morning. Would you care to have a go at these?” She turned her back to him, and felt once more those long fingers, working their way slowly down her back, tiny pearl buttons, one…then another…and another…

***

At one point, Phryne hazily thought that it was like another kind of dance. The tempo changed, they found the pulse, the crescendo built then quieted. No music played, but they were entirely in tune with each other.

***

A long time later, she lay collapsed across him. “I should probably move,” she murmured.  
“I can’t think why,” he declared.  
“Ahh….Neither can I.” 

***

When Phryne woke the next morning, she felt no confusion; she knew exactly where she was and who was with her. She considered their lovemaking. It had been very different than the first night: it was not hurried, or harried, or hasty in any way. There was no urgency, no race to release. He could almost have been a different man, but for those eyes. Whether she looked up or down into his face, those dark blue eyes anchored her.  
She stretched, then propped herself up on one elbow, the better to observe him. This morning, he was taking up a disproportionate amount of the space in the bed. Head thrown back, one arm flung wide, face rough with whiskers, long eyelashes brushing his cheekbones…  
As if he could sense her looking at him, he sighed and turned his face in her direction. Slowly, lazily, he opened those eyes and smiled fuzzily at her in that way she was coming to love.  
Love? She questioned the words that had just gone through her head.  
“Good morning,” he said.  
Now if she was going to love something, that foggy voice was something to love, she told herself. “Good morning,” she answered.  
“You’re awake early. Thinking about your departure?” he wondered.  
“Oh, Jack.” She curled into him. “What was I thinking, getting a train ticket for this morning? If I hadn’t, we could have had any number of mornings like this.”  
“You were thinking that you would go back to Melbourne and run the station for me,” he accused, kissing her forehead.  
“Me? Run City South?”  
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t thought of it.”  
“Oh, fine. I thought of it. But managing details is not my forte.”  
“It’s all right. You have many other charming abilities.” He engaged her in practicing a few of them. 

They repeated and improved upon their morning routine from the day before, and went down the stairs to share another pleasant breakfast (for which he did indeed pay). Afterwards, Phryne went back upstairs to pack, while Jack left briefly to check in at the station. As promised, he returned at the appointed hour to deliver her to the station. They loaded her considerable amount of luggage into the boot of the car, and drove away from The Russell Hotel.  
“It’s really a very pleasant hotel,” Phryne mused. “Remarkable how much I liked it.” Jack nodded, smiling to himself as he drove them through the streets of Sydney. 

When they arrived at the train station, they arranged to have her luggage loaded, and found her platform. Phryne said reluctantly, “I suppose I’d better go ahead and board. I like to get settled in plenty of time. Jack, when do you think you’ll come back to Melbourne?”  
“It shouldn’t be more than a week, I hope. Sooner, if I don’t have to testify.”  
“But what if you have to stay longer?” she asked plaintively.  
His expression didn’t change significantly, but a mischievous light appeared in his eyes. “Then come after me, Phryne Fisher.”  
With delighted wonder, she asked, “ _What_ did you say?”  
“Come after me.”  
Never liking to let him be one-up, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him soundly. When they separated, she sighed happily, “That’s really much nicer without my father looking on.”  
Jack, slightly dazed, took notice of the many disapproving faces passing by. “I think I prefer a smaller audience.”  
“All aboard,” called the conductor.  
“Oh, Jack! I must go!” She hurried for the door to her train car. She quickly found her seat, sat by the window and searched for Jack. He saw her almost immediately. They waved, and the train began to pull away. 

Late that evening, Phryne arrived at the station, and asked immediately for a phone. She was directed to one, and called the cabbies to come pick her up. She had called ahead to warn them after she bought the ticket, because she knew she would get in late.  
When they arrived, Phryne saw Bert do a double-take. “You’re alone?” he asked.  
“Yes. Inspector Robinson can’t come back yet, so I’m on my own,” Phryne explained.  
“Well—how long will he be gone, then?” Bert asked.  
“I hope it won’t be much more than another week,” she said quietly. Turning then to a lighter tone, she teased, “I didn’t think you’d miss him so much, Bert!”  
Cec grinned, but Bert just said gruffly, “There are people here who need him, that’s all.”  
With Phryne settled in the cab, and the luggage (all of it) loaded, Cec and Bert swung into the cab and drove away toward Wardlow.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get this story finished. The denouement is in sight!

Phryne slept late the next morning. When she did finally rise, she went to the kitchen to get a cup of tea, then wandered into the parlour and found Dot working furiously at some mending. “Dot, you’ll tear that to shreds! What happened to your very fine hand with a needle?”  
“It disappeared once Hugh started working with that horrible Inspector O’Shaughnessy!” Dot fairly snarled.  
“Oh, my. Tell me what is going on there.”  
“If it wasn’t for Constable Carter, I don’t know how Hugh could have kept the station open,” Dot said with irritation.  
“Constable Carter? I don’t believe I know him.”  
“No, he’s new since you left for England. Hugh didn’t care much for him at first; he’s terribly precise, and always wants to see everything done in a certain way. It’s a difficult way to be if you want to be a policeman, Hugh says, because crimes rarely fit neatly into that kind of a pattern. But since Inspector O’Shaughnessy doesn’t seem to take charge of things, like paperwork and schedules and things that are not interesting to him, Constable Carter has been able to help. He and Hugh work behind O’Shaughnessy’s back to keep the station from falling apart. Oh! My thread is all knotted up again!” Dot looked threateningly at the needle.  
“Dot, will you and Hugh come have dinner with me tonight? I really want to hear what’s going on. I hate to have the Inspector return to a mess.”  
Sourly, Dot said, “I’m afraid there’s no question about that, Miss. It’s already happened. Oh, but where are my manners? Did you find Inspector Robinson, then?”  
“Yes. I found him. He’s…well,” Phryne said with a distant look in her sparkling eyes. “And he expects to come back—I think. That is, we need to convince him to come back, so let’s see what we can do to get this station into shape, shall we?”  
Dot’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I don’t know, Miss, I think maybe this is something the men should handle.” She really meant that she thought it was something that Miss Fisher _shouldn’t_ handle; as much admiration as she had for her employer, Dot wasn’t at all certain that running a police station was within Miss Fisher’s range of talents.  
“Nonsense, Dot! If men can do it, I’m sure women can do it at least as well!” Phryne stated with certainty.  
Dot smiled, but a little voice in the back of her head warned of trouble ahead. She didn’t know the half of it.

Hugh and Dot came for dinner. They had never had the opportunity before to enjoy a meal with Miss Fisher alone, and they felt quite the honored guests. However, they had only gotten through the soup course before Phryne pounced on Hugh. “Now, Hugh,” she said smoothly, “Tell me what’s going on down at City South.”  
Dot had primed him that this was coming. “Well, you met Inspector O’Shaughnessy,” Hugh started.  
“Yes…”  
She simply waited silently, and Hugh began to speak. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, even though he had been taught the same trick by his mentor Inspector Robinson. “Well, Miss, well, it’s gotten very complicated—I mean, Inspector O’Shaughnessy was never clear about who was to do what or when, so we’ve been trying to figure it out for ourselves. He gets angry when things go wrong, but sometimes we find that two people have been working on the same thing, and no one on another, because we aren’t getting clear assignments, and—and—well, I try to keep things straight, but I don’t have the authority to tell people what to do, and policemen tend to think for themselves, so—we really need someone to—well—to lead.” Oh, what had he done now?  
“Mm-hmm,” said Phryne. “And what about this Constable Carter? Dot says he’s been helping you?”  
“Er—yes, he is a sort of help—that is, we spend a lot of time arguing about what needs to be done, but at least he can see the need for order. That’s all he talks about: getting things in order. But life doesn’t always follow the order he has in mind! Inspector Robinson has had his hands full trying to train him—he’s always questioning everything, and not in a very useful way. He’s quite a trial, but he’s my only ally for the time being. Oh, Miss, you haven’t said: Is the Inspector coming back soon?”  
Phryne didn’t want to say anything to suggest that Jack might not return, because she didn’t want to alarm Hugh—and because she superstitiously didn’t want to say it out loud.  
“I’m not really certain. It’s possible he might be back within the week.”  
“Oh, that’s good news, Miss!” Hugh said wholeheartedly.  
“But,” Phryne said, filling her dinner guests with dread, “the question is: what can we do to fix things for him while he is gone?” She outlined a plan to them that she had plotted that afternoon.  
Hugh bit his lip. Dot said a silent prayer.


	20. Chapter 20

Phryne rose the next morning with her plan clearly in mind. City South was in a state of confusion, Hugh was in dire straits, and Jack would come back to a terrible snarl. She had to do something about it. She breakfasted, dressed in her inimitable style, and walked out to the garage. She got into her Hispano and drove off, with great determination, to the Commissioner’s office in Russell Street.  
She strode into the front office to the surprise of the receptionist, and said firmly, “I’d like to speak with the Commissioner, please.”  
The receptionist, well trained, asked, “Do you have an appointment?”  
“No,” said Phryne, “and what’s more, I don’t need one. He’ll see me.” She charged past the receptionist’s desk and down the hall until she saw the commissioner’s office, and she pulled open the door and walked right in.  
At the sight of someone entering his office, the Commissioner hastily put down the newspaper he had been reading. “I have to read that. It’s part of my job to keep abreast of the news,” the Commissioner said, turning slightly pink in the face.  
Phryne would have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if she hadn’t noted that he was reading the racing sheet, but she chose not to mention that. “Commissioner, my name is Phryne Fisher,” she said.  
The Commissioner said, somewhat disagreeably, “I know who you are.”  
“Good. That should make this easier, then. City South is a mess.”  
The Commissioner looked affronted. “Who are you to tell me that?”  
“I’m a private detective who has seen how a well-run, well-organized modern station functions when directed by a gifted Senior Detective Inspector.”  
The Commissioner squinted at her. “You’d be bound to say that, wouldn’t you? I’m sure you know all about his gifts.”  
Phryne was incensed. This Commissioner, who had not impressed her so far, might know who she was, but he clearly did not know who he was dealing with. “Apparently I know more about them than you do. I don’t like your tone—but it doesn’t matter. The commissioner in Sydney can see his gifts well enough.”  
“What do you mean by that?”  
“I mean,” said Phryne, considering her manicure, “that they would be very interested in keeping him there.”  
“What? In Sydney?” The Commissioner stood up. “Now wait a minute, they begged me to help them out. Are you telling me—”  
“They’d like to steal Inspector Robinson right out from under your nose, yes,” she said plainly.  
“Why, that—I’m not giving Robinson up to anyone, but especially not those Sydney boys! They’re always trying to compete with me. Did Robinson tell you to tell me that?”  
Phryne could see she was already winning. “Jack Robinson doesn’t tell me to do anything. And I certainly don’t tell him what to do. You ought to know more about him. You stand to lose a real asset.”  
The Commissioner slammed his hand down on the desk. “Damn it, he can’t leave! I’m about to be up for review by the board. City South is the best-run station in town.”  
Phryne softened a little at that remark. “It might be a good thing if you were to tell _him_ that.”  
“I don’t believe in that sort of mollycoddling. Men should do what they’re assigned to do, and not expect compliments for it,” the Commissioner growled, but weakened his argument when he added, “Besides, he’s not here.”  
“He should be before too long—unless they convince him to stay in Sydney. And from what I can tell, his station is being run into the ground by the man you sent to take over for him.” It wasn’t quite time to let this man off the hook.  
“That fool O’Shaughnessy! I don’t know why I ever let him try to keep an eye on City South, when he already has a station that’s barely under control. He was the only one I could find to agree to do it, and now I know why. Now I have two stations that are a mess. What am I supposed to do about it?”  
Phryne had little patience with whinging. “I can’t help with any other stations, but I came here today with an idea to help get City South put back to rights. I can send someone to City South to help with organizing the paperwork and scheduling. And you can pay attention to Senior Constable Hugh Collins, as well. He is single-handedly keeping City South open.”  
The Commissioner frowned. “Single-handedly? O’Shaughnessy is there. What do you think he’s been doing?”  
“I have no idea. I can’t tell that he’s done anything but turn things upside down,” she said with a hint of a sneer.  
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Miss Fisher.”  
“Yes, I have. Anyone can tell you that. And I’ll be perfectly willing to go explain the plan to O’Shaughnessy,” Phryne stated.  
The Commissioner scoffed, “Really? I suppose you will just walk in and tell him all about your plan? And that will convince him to let you take over? I’d like to see it.”  
Phryne broke into a happy smile. “How wonderful! I knew I could make you see it my way. Give me a few hours. Thank you, Commissioner.” Just like that, she walked out.

The Commissioner stood and stared at the door that Phryne had closed behind her, and wondered what had just happened. How, he mused, had Robinson ever gotten tied up with a woman like that? He seemed like such a smart, traditional cop, if a bit on the quiet side. But never mind that, he thought; how had she turned things around so the Commissioner had seemed to agree with her about City South? Somehow, she had just insinuated herself into things until he didn’t even realize what she was doing—then the trap sprang shut.  
Maybe that’s what had happened to Robinson.


	21. Chapter 21

Phryne drove across town, and steeled herself for what she was about to do. She parked the Hispano and walked into City South. It had been so familiar for so long. She had quickly learned to overlook the peeling paint, the dirty floors, and the signs everywhere: No Fighting. No Weapons. No Spitting. The latter was largely ignored. But now it was a hubbub of policemen, moving around meaninglessly, uncertain of what had been done and what needed to be done. Hugh Collins was amid the throng.  
“Miss Fisher!” he said. “Have you heard any more from Inspector Robinson?” No harm in dreaming…  
She felt sorry to crush the hope in his voice. “No, I’m sorry, Hugh. But I’ve spoken to the Commissioner, and now I’m going to have a chat with Inspector O’Shaughnessy.”  
Hugh’s eyes went wide. He really hadn’t thought she would get this far. “Are you sure you want to do that, Miss?”  
“I don’t want to do it at all. But I will. We can’t let the Inspector come home to this.” She strode down the hall to the Inspector’s office. She almost opened the door, as she normally would do if Jack were there; but she remembered her plan, and knocked politely.  
“Yair?” O’Shaughnessy said from inside. Since it didn’t seem that he would make any effort to open the door, she gently opened it. “You!” he said.  
“Yes, me.” She came in, moved a number of things off the visitor’s chair, and sat down. “I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. Let’s try again.”  
O’Shaughnessy huffed. “Am I supposed to believe that?” He leaned in and she saw the leer he had treated her to that first day. “So any old Inspector will do for you, eh, girly?”  
She stood indignantly and her eyes went steely. “It so happens that I am here to save your—reputation. This station is falling down around you, and I’m here to help you put it back together. It would behoove you to listen to what I have to say.”  
“Oh, really? And why’s that?”  
“Because I have the backing of the Commissioner. You know of him, I believe?”  
O’Shaughnessy peered at her. “The Commissioner. He sent you?”  
“I presented a solution, and he approved it,” she explained. It was all this pompous… person needed to know.  
“Is that so? I’ll check it out, don’t think I won’t!”  
“Please do,” Phryne invited. “I just left his office. It would make things much simpler if you would call him. Here,” she said and started to reach for what she thought of as Jack’s phone.  
“Leave that alone! That’s—city property.” O’Shaughnessy didn’t really want to draw any attention from the Commissioner. Things were not working out the way he had thought they would.  
Phryne tossed her head. “Have it your way, then.”  
“So I suppose _you_ are going to run this station?” O’Shaughnessy said sarcastically.  
“No. That’s the beauty of it. You, Inspector, are going to be in charge. But I’m going to bring in a woman who could run an army. All you have to do is let her work for you.”  
“Who’s this woman, then?”  
“Dorothy Collins,” Phryne said smugly. 

Dot started her first day a little nervously. The first thing she did was have Hugh show her around the station so she could meet everyone, except the Inspector. Dot formed a few opinions, and then told Hugh she needed to go home for a while, but she would be back after lunch.  
She came back with a large bag of fresh-baked biscuits. She went from officer to officer, asking about their work and seeing what needed to be done. When she finished with that, she went to Inspector O’Shaughnessy, but she made sure Hugh was with her.  
“Inspector O’Shaughnessy? This is my wife, Dot.”  
O’Shaughnessy gave her a sour look. “So you’re the one who’s going to fix everything here? Seems to me having a woman around here just causes problems, it doesn’t fix them.”  
Hugh bristled, but Dot smiled sweetly. “I brought you some biscuits, Inspector.”  
“Biscuits? If that isn’t just like a woman. You think you can solve problems with biscuits?”  
“I also brought you a cup of tea.” She placed it on his desk.  
His tone lost a little of its sharpness. “Well…”  
“Thank you, Inspector, for letting me interrupt you.” She tipped her head toward the door, and she and Hugh exited. 

Once they were outside the office, Hugh whispered, “Do you think it worked?”  
Dottie gave him a patient look. “These things take time, Hugh. Don’t be in too much of a hurry. Now let’s get to work on some of this paperwork, and I’d like to see that schedule that everyone is complaining about.” 

That evening Hugh and Dot were invited to have dinner with Phryne again, and to report to her about their day. “It’s all topsy-turvy, Miss. I think we can start to put some things back in order, especially if we can get Inspector O’Shaughnessy to listen to Hugh,” Dot summed it up.  
“Dottie really managed to get the trust of the other officers today,” Hugh said proudly. “Whoever would have thought biscuits and some well-made tea would do so much?”  
“Whoever it might be, it certainly wouldn’t be a man,” said Phryne dryly. “But I’m delighted to hear that you’ve gotten off to a good start. Thank you both.”  
“You don’t need to thank me, Miss!” said Hugh. “My life will be so much easier if we can get the station running smoothly again.”  
“And my life will be so much better if my husband doesn’t come home every evening worrying about what’s happening at the station,” said Dot, sending a loving smile Hugh’s way.  
“And my life,” Phryne thought, “will be so much better if City South doesn’t scare Jack right back to Sydney.”


	22. Chapter 22

Over the following days, Dottie tried to organize the station’s paperwork, while Hugh and Constable Carter worked on schedules and assignments for the officers. It was slow going, as they were starting from scratch, but things began to take on a semblance of organization. Phryne kept her distance from the station. She was just as happy to invite Hugh and Dot to dinner and get the latest information about their progress that way.  
They had just finished another meal and were talking about some new ideas they might try when the phone rang. Mr. Butler answered, and then came to the door of the dining room with a jubilant smile.  
“Inspector Robinson for you, Miss,” he said.  
Hugh and Dot looked happy and hopeful, and Phryne rose quickly from the table to answer the telephone. “Jack!” she said, elated to hear from him.  
“Phryne. How are you?” His voice sounded crackly and tinny on the line. The connection, as usual, was tenuous.  
“Fine. How are you? Are you coming home?”  
“Yes, I’m finally free to leave (crackle)—ticket for the late train. Can you (crackle)—cabbies to meet me at the station in Melb (crackle)—at 9:30 tomorrow morning?” Phryne missed a lot of his words, but understood the gist of the message.  
“The cabbies? You’d rather see Bert and Cec than me?”  
“Isn’t 9:30 (crackle)—early for you?”  
“Yes. It is. But I’ll be there, tomorrow morning,” she said firmly, then softened. “Jack, I’m glad you’re coming back.”  
“I’m glad, too(crackle)—good to be home. I’d better ring off, though, I can’t hear you very—” The line went dead. Phryne looked with dismay at the receiver, but then went back to Hugh and Dot with the good news.  
“Is he coming home?” Hugh asked anxiously.  
“Yes, tomorrow morning at around 9:30. I’m going to meet him at the station.”  
“At 9:30?” Hugh said, alarmed.  
“Oh, my, Miss,” Dot said with concern, “I’d better stay home tomorrow morning and make sure you are awake. That’s early for you.”  
Phryne made a face. “So everyone keeps telling me.”

At shortly after 9:30 am, Jack Robinson stepped briskly off the train. He shifted his suitcase to his other hand, and scanned the faces of the many people who had come to collect their loved ones or family members. He did not see any sign of Phryne.  
He went inside the station, thinking perhaps there had been a miscommunication, and wondering if he should find a phone. He could call Mr. Butler and see if Bert and Cec were available…Jack had to laugh at himself. He, like Dot Collins and Prudence Stanley, had come to think of Bert and Cec as the only cabbies in town. He could easily flag down a cab in the street outside the station.  
He was walking toward the streetside door when it flew open. “Oh, Jack! Thank God!” Phryne said, bursting through in a rainbow-hued confection of a dress. “The traffic was awful.”  
“Even for a Hispano?” he asked mildly. What he meant, of course, was, _Even for a Hispano traveling at a high rate of speed?_  
“There was some sort of accident, or obstruction, I don’t know which. Everyone was at a standstill. I thought I’d never get here!” Phryne sounded frazzled.  
“I just arrived. The train was a little behind, as well,” Jack consoled her. “At any rate, we are both in the same place at the same time.”  
“Yes. In the right place. At the right time,” added Phryne. “You’re back where you belong, Jack.” She took his arm.  
He did not answer, save for a smile, but he was in definite agreement as he stood beside her.  
“Where is your luggage?” Phryne asked.  
Jack had put it down when he saw her come through the door, but now he hefted it. “Right here,” he said.  
Phryne simply stared at him for a moment. “Jack, you were gone for weeks.”  
Now he was the one staring, hoping she would explain.  
“That one suitcase would last me about two days!” she exclaimed.  
“Ah! I see. But my dear Miss Fisher, you’re much more of a bird-of-paradise than I am.”  
She did not fail to notice the endearment. Two could play that game. “But my dear Inspector, you have some fine feathers yourself.”  
“No fan feathers, though.”  
She led him to the door. Silly man. He thought he’d had the last word. “You know….I still have those.” She loved to watch his eyes go dark. 

They went out to the Hispano, and Jack tossed his suitcase into the boot. Phryne caught his wary look when he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Stop that!” she said. “My driving isn’t that bad!  
“It’s been months, you know,” Jack pointed out, putting his hat in his lap. “I’ll have to get acclimated again.”

“Are you ready to get back to work?” Phryne asked as they whizzed along. “The Commissioner wants to see you as soon as possible.”  
“The Commissioner? How would you know that?”  
“Because I called to tell him that you were coming back today, and he asked me to let you know.”  
“You called to tell him?”  
“Certainly. I thought he’d want to talk to you.”  
“I thought I’d stop in _after_ I went to City South, but—when did you get to be so friendly with the Commissioner?”  
“As I’ve said before, small sacrifices must be made. I’ve seen quite a bit of the Victorian Constabulary this week, and I can’t say I’m impressed. With one exception, of course.”  
“Collins, I suppose?”  
“Very droll. Hugh _is_ charming, I must admit. But I have it on good authority that he is taken.” She leaned toward Jack, and purred, “Darling, I’m glad that you’re not taken.”  
That word sent a dozen images flitting through his mind, including a bittersweet moment with another dark-haired woman he had cared for—but the response he chose was, “I’m quite taken with you, Miss Fisher.”  
Phryne thought to herself that he believed he had not given himself away, but she had seen the question in his eyes: Am I not? Once more, she waited for the fear to consume her. She did not want to hurt this good man. But once more, the fear did not come, and she did not feel compelled to seek escape.  
“And it’s just as well I don’t,” she thought. “Jack and I have work to do!”


	23. Chapter 23

Phryne and Jack walked into the reception area of the Commissioner’s office.  
“Good morning, Mrs. Havens,” Jack said courteously. “I need to speak with the Commissioner.”  
Mrs. Havens frowned. “I’m not sure if he’s free, Inspector Robinson—“  
Phryne stepped up assertively beside him. “I’m sure he’ll see us, Mrs. Havens. Especially when Inspector Robinson is so much more polite to you than I am.” Her overtone was clear to Mrs. Havens: the receptionist might rule the roost with these men, but Phryne Fisher was in a completely different category.  
“Hmf. Well, I’ll go see if he’s free,” Mrs. Havens huffed.  
She returned almost immediately. “The Commissioner will see you now,” she said with a frosty look at Phryne.  
“Thank you,” Jack said and started off in the direction of the Commissioner’s office. Phryne followed, favoring Mrs. Havens with a saccharine smile, which Mrs. Havens did not return.  
Jack entered the office, and the Commissioner looked up at him and said, “Robinson! Thank God you’re back! That’s a mess over at City South. I don’t know what that idiot O’Shaughnessy has been doing, but I need you to get it under control immediately.”  
Before Jack could say a word, Phryne spoke up as she also entered the office. “Not much of a welcome, is it? Considering how very much you need him.”  
“Ph—Miss Fisher—” Jack began, but the Commissioner had the grace to look abashed, and he answered her comment.  
“Er—well, yes, I do need you, Robinson. It’s going to take a steady hand to get that station back on its feet again.”  
Jack frowned but said nothing. The Commissioner waited for his answer and got none, so he continued, “I hear you were a great help to that crew at Sydney. Er—well done.”  
Jack lifted an eyebrow. Still gaining no response, the Commissioner stammered on, “Damn it, I don’t want you to go haring off to Sydney. Apologies, Miss Fisher,” he said to excuse his cursing. He looked back at Jack. “I need you to stay here.”  
Jack said matter-of-factly, “Yes, sir. You do.”  
The Commissioner seemed now to be relieved of the burden of having to give Jack a compliment. “All right, you’re dismissed. You’ve got a yeoman’s job ahead of you.”  
Jack looked toward Phryne and waved a hand to signify that she should precede him out of the office. Phryne was mystified, but walked out with him. Once they left the building, she burst out, “That’s it? That’s all he had to say to you? After all you’ve done? After you made him look good in Sydney, and _will_ make him look good here?”  
Jack nodded.  
Phryne fumed, “I never will understand men! You’re all mad, I think.”  
“If I’m not yet, I may be once we get to the station,” Jack said.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get this story finished; thank God! (you'll see what I mean)

Jack and Phryne walked up to the door at City South. Phryne was aware that Jack took a deep breath before pulling open the door and striding inside. He had only taken a few steps when he stopped short; Phryne, had she been less attentive, would have run right into him. Mass confusion was the order of the day: policemen seemed to be aimlessly wandering, until they noticed their commanding officer had just walked in.  
At that instant, Hugh Collins stopped what he was doing and hurried to greet them. “Inspector Robinson! Thank God you’re back, sir!”  
Jack and Phryne turned to each other and exchanged a puzzled glance at yet another invocation of the deity.  
“It seems to be a theme. Perhaps you could start a church,” Phryne said under her breath.  
Jack turned back to Hugh. “Collins. Why are there so many men on shift? There are twice as many as there should be in this room alone.”  
“We’re trying to get things sorted out, sir. Dottie’s been working on the schedules: Inspector O’Shaughnessy let people switch their shift times, but it didn’t always get communicated to everyone, and we’d end up with too many on at a time, and everyone wanted days—”  
He stopped at the sight of Jack holding up one hand. “All right, Collins, I know it’s no fault of yours.” All the men in the room stood waiting expectantly for orders, but Jack said, “I’ll get this cleared up, but first I believe I need to talk to—” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before speaking, but finished simply with, “O’Shaughnessy.”  
The constables all turned to each other, but no one said a word. They knew their boss well enough to know when was seething.  
Jack glared toward his office. The officers silently moved aside as if choreographed, as he stalked down the hallway.

He opened the door without warning, and O’Shaughnessy blinked into fuzzy wakefulness. He shook his head as stealthily as he could.  
“O’Shaughnessy,” said Jack, softly, ominously, as he surveyed his office, chairs covered with piles of papers of all kinds, files spilling across the desk and onto the floor, drawers hanging open.  
“Robinson!” O’Shaughnessy said with a touch of wariness, then added unnecessarily, “You’re back. Thank God.”  
Jack peered at him. “Yes. I am.” O’Shaughnessy was not observant enough to see it, but Phryne, peeking over and around Jack’s shoulder, knew Jack had swallowed a sarcastic remark. She’d have to ask him later.  
O’Shaughnessy went on the offense. “And I’m glad of it! It’s very different here than what I’m used to. Different way of looking at things. I don’t know how you keep this place running the way you do.”  
Phryne stepped out from behind Jack then, unable to remain silent any longer. “Truer words were never spoken.”  
O’Shaughnessy took her in, then said to Jack, “Oh, yes, I’ve met your—er...” Even O’Shaughnessy was not fool enough to overlook the dangerous narrowing of Jack’s eyes. “—Miss Fisher,” he finished lamely. Phryne smiled at his embarrassment.  
“I’d like my office back,” Jack said flatly. “If you’ll just pack up…”  
“Sure, I’ll do that,” said O’Shaughnessy. “It’s very different here from my station, you understand. I instituted a few changes—you may want to change them back. Not sure they worked here. Things at my station aren’t as…regimented. I don’t have people worrying about the little details the way you do at this station.”  
It was very alarming, how silent Robinson was. O’Shaughnessy had forgotten what he was like. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to try to get involved with this station. O’Shaughnessy had thought he could do well if once he got a fresh start at a place like City South. His own station was filled with too many problems: the new recruits were no good, the district had more crime than ever, it was rundown. But things hadn’t worked out here the way he expected, so he thought he had better clear out. It wouldn’t be wise to make an enemy of Robinson, even if he wasn’t the favored son-in-law anymore.  
“I’ll just get some of these things packed up, shouldn’t take me long,” O’Shaughnessy began in a rambling way.  
“I’ll be out front,” Jack said shortly, and turned and walked out. Phryne tossed her head and shot a sassy smile at O’Shaughnessy in his defeat. 

At the front desk, Jack called Collins over to help him start to get things reorganized. “I need to know who is scheduled right now, and for the next two shifts,” Jack said without preamble.  
“Yes, sir. I’ll get that from Dottie. She and Carter have been working with it. I’ll be right back.” Hugh hurried off, passing a few other officers who were milling around, wondering what would happen next.  
The telephone rang, so since Jack was standing right next to it, he picked it up. “City South, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson speaking,” he answered. He looked oddly at the phone when the person on the other end responded. “Hello, Mac. Yes, I am. No, no plans to do that. Is there? Is there anything suspicious about it? Mm-hmm. No. All right, tomorrow then—I may send Collins. Yes, I’m glad to be here—I think… Thank you, Mac.” He hung up.  
Phryne stepped up to him. “Did she say ‘thank God’?”  
He blinked. “Yes.”  
Phryne raised her eyebrows, although they were not visible under her fringe. “Definitely a church,” she said.


	25. Chapter 25

Jack looked around. “Where’s Collins gotten to?” he wondered. Jack headed down the hall in the direction Hugh had gone. Phryne, ever curious, followed.  
They entered a small room that had been turned into a makeshift office for Dot and Constable Carter. Dottie was seated at the table and looked up, exhausted, from behind a pile of paperwork. “Oh, Inspector Robinson! Thank God!”  
When Jack turned to meet her eyes, Phryne avowed, “That’s it. You have to start a church now. It’s been ordained.”  
Dot looked at them oddly, but she was well accustomed to Miss Phryne and the Inspector saying things she didn’t understand. She started explaining, “It’s just so difficult to get this to come out right, after it’s been so confused. We can’t have people working too many hours in a row, or not getting work, and yet, there doesn’t seem to be a way to make it come out fairly. Whatever I try seems to spoil what I’ve done before.”  
Jack took a look at the paper she held out to him, frowned at it, and then said, “Collins, go get a copy of a schedule from the log, from the week before I left.” Hugh went immediately to take care of that errand. Dottie looked hopeful that things would be solved.  
Just then, Constable Carter came in. “Oh! Inspector Robinson!” he said.  
“Must be an agnostic,” Phryne murmured.  
Jack gave his attention to Carter. “Constable. I hear you’ve been trying to help with this paperwork.”  
Carter was glad his work had been noticed. “Yes, sir. It’s been very difficult to sort out what needs to happen. And we haven’t always been in complete agreement…”  
Dot looked mutinous at this remark, but said nothing, as Hugh came in with several sheets of paper in his hand and handed them to the Inspector. Jack looked them over carefully, but quickly. “Good. Call all the constables together, please, Collins.” Collins went to do just that, and Jack followed. The rest of the people in the room came along to see what would happen. 

Jack took the old schedule and tacked it to the wall. “There has been some confusion about the schedule. So,” he pointed to the papers he had just posted, “We’ll go by this schedule from several weeks ago. I’ll post it right here, and I want every one of you to take a look at it. If you’re not listed on this shift, I want you to leave immediately. You will be paid for any time you have worked. Some of you may be scheduled to come back this evening or overnight: if that is the case, come see me in the interview room and we’ll discuss how we will handle it. Is that understood?”  
Carter stepped forward. “But sir, it’s more complicated than that. Some men may get more hours than they should, and some fewer…”  
“And I will deal with it,” the Inspector told him coolly. “Thank you, Carter.”  
Carter tried to explain, since his senior officer didn’t seem to understand. “But—” He caught the look on the Inspector’s face. “Yes, sir.” 

There were a few situations of double shifts that needed to be worked out, but there were also some men who had been shorted. In most cases, Jack was able to find a solution quickly; in a few cases, he would be left slightly shorthanded, but he would be able to get through until he could fill out a normal schedule. He strolled back to the front desk.  
O’Shaughnessy came through, carrying a big box with papers falling out of it. He appeared to be in a hurry to leave. “Well, that’s that, then.” He headed for the door.  
“O’ Shaughnessy.”  
“Robinson?”  
“You said you don’t have people to worry about details at your station?”  
“Er—well, not the way you do here.”  
Jack turned and called around the corner. “Carter?”  
Constable Carter came quickly, hoping he hadn’t made his superior officer angry again. “Yes, sir?”  
Jack looked back at O’Shaughnessy. “This constable has a real talent for details. I wonder if we should consider a transfer. Would you have an interest in that, Carter?”  
Carter’s eyes lit up at the thought of a whole station to organize. From what he had seen of O’Shaughnessy, it would probably all fall to Carter to manage. Carter’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I would, sir!”  
“O’Shaughnessy?”  
O’Shaughnessy was bemused by this turn of events. “Sure. I guess so. Why not?” Maybe he could foist off all the boring work on this bright young thing. Odd that Robinson would offer it, but if that’s what he wanted…  
“I’ll get the paperwork started tomorrow. Goodbye, O’Shaughnessy,” he said with finality.  
O’Shaughnessy nodded. “Robinson.” He walked out.  
“Thank you, sir!” Carter said happily. Visions of carefully detailed schedules danced in his head as he walked away.

Hugh stood nearby. He had witnessed the entire encounter, and was filled with admiration. “Well done, sir,” he said. It might be out of line, but he couldn’t help himself.  
Inspector Robinson made a wry face. “Two birds with one stone, Collins.”  
“Two birds that will be out of our hair?”  
“Er—yes.” The metaphor seemed a little strained, but he’d let it go. “I think O’Shaughnessy had some notion of trying to take over here. The further away he is, the better—and he can take Carter with him.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
The Inspector aimed an intent look at Hugh. “From what I hear, you’ve stepped up and managed very well, Collins.” He smiled his slight smile. “I hope you’re not angling to get my job, too.”  
Hugh looked alarmed. “Oh, no, sir! At least—not until you’re done with it.”  
“Glad to hear it.” He turned to see Phryne stepping into the room.  
“Is he gone?” she asked.  
“Yes.”  
She shuddered. “Good. What’s next?”  
“My office.” Now it was Jack’s turn to shudder, if only internally.


	26. Chapter 26

Jack looked around the room, shaking his head. “I could easily work here till midnight, trying to sort this mess, and it would scarcely make a dent.”  
Phryne stepped up. “But you won’t, will you?”  
He turned to her, questioning.  
“Jack. Whatever needs to be done here will wait for another day. It’s the first night in a very long time that we are both in Melbourne.” Her lips turned up in a hopeful smile. “I thought you could join me for dinner.”  
Jack couldn’t help himself. “That’s proven to be a recipe for a murder to happen…”  
“Or for an unexpected relative to appear!” Phryne said in exasperation, but then she added flamboyantly, “I’ll tell Mr. Butler to bar the doors and disconnect the telephone. We’ll find a way to keep the world at bay!”  
“Is that really what you want?” asked Jack.  
“More than anything,” she insisted. “Did you doubt it?”  
Quietly, he said, “Phryne. We were far from home. Now that we’re back, I didn’t want to presume.”  
Phryne had moved very close to him. “It’s not presumptuous. I want you,” she said distinctly, “to join me tonight.”  
Somehow, amid the chaos, they had found a moment that made them feel like the only two people on the planet. They leaned in closer to each other, alone in the office.  
The door opened suddenly. Jack and Phryne moved apart in a way that they thought to be subtle, only to see Mac standing in the doorway. “Oh, hell,” she said, seeing that she was interrupting. “I’m sorry. I just came to personally welcome you back to City South, Jack.”  
With good humour, Jack asked, “You’re not trying to drag me over to see your corpse already, are you?”  
“That corpse isn’t going anywhere,” Mac said. “It seems very clear that it’s not going to be complicated.” She pinned Phryne with a look. “Not at all up to _your_ standards.”  
“The complicated corpses,” opined Phryne, “knew that they should wait until Jack and I could work together again.”  
Jack gazed around the office. “With any luck, they’ll wait till I can work in my own office. I may have to have the cleaners in, overtime.”  
“Have it fumigated,” said Phryne, wrinkling her nose. 

Many hours later, Mr. Butler opened the door and saw Inspector Robinson standing there. “Good evening, Mr. Butler. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Jack said pleasantly.  
“Please come in, Inspector Robinson,” Mr. Butler said. “I’ll announce you.” They were the same words Mr. Butler had spoken on dozens of occasions, but he seemed especially cordial this evening. “May I?” He took the younger man’s coat and hat, and hung them on the hall tree.  
“Jack!” Phryne swung out of the parlour. “Come in!”  
Jack looked around, taking it all in. “Does it still look the same?” Phryne teased.  
“Yes. And I’m glad to see it.”  
“Whiskey?” Phryne was already at the decanter, gathering two glasses.  
“Yes, thank you.”  
They stood at the mantel, looking into each others’ eyes. It felt the same as it had before…and yet it felt different.  
In time, Mr. Butler came in to refill the decanter while they waited on dinner. When he did, he asked Phryne, “Miss, if you don’t need me once dinner is served, I have a bit of the headache. After I finish up in the kitchen, I’d like to have a lie-down.”  
Jack tried not to let his amusement show, and Phryne said, “Oh, Mr. Butler, of course. You can finish in the kitchen tomorrow, if you don’t feel well.”  
“No, Miss, it’s fine. I’d sooner finish tonight.”  
“All right.” She decided not to tease him any more. “Thank you, Mr. Butler.”  
“Thank you, Miss. Inspector.” He withdrew. 

She looked after him fondly. “Mr. Butler. He always seems to have a sixth sense.”  
“I really could use him on the force. I don’t suppose—”  
“Not on your nelly, Jack Robinson!” 

They refreshed their drinks and returned to stand by the mantel. Phryne said sincerely, “I’ve been far from home, and I’m so happy to be back. And you’ve been far away, and I’m so happy that you’re back. And now we are home—no one planning to live in Sydney, no one planning to live in England—both of us, right here, where we belong.”  
He reached over to take her hand, which she relinquished happily. Much passed between them in the silence that followed, as their eyes met and held, along with their hands. A gentle tapping noise at the door woke them from their spell.  
Mr. Butler was frustrated to have to break in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss, Sir, but Mrs. Stanley is here.”  
“Oh! Aunt Prudence! I forgot, she told me she was going to bring something by today.” Phryne sighed. “It won’t take long. It’s fine, Mr. Butler, show her in.”  
Jack released Phryne’s hand, and said in an undertone, “Speaking of a sixth sense—I don’t think _she_ will greet me with ‘thank God’, do you?”  
Phryne laughed. “We should have a wager! Oops—too late. Hello, Aunt Prudence,” she ended heartily.  
Prudence entered the room, carrying a large, decorated vase. “Hello, Phryne. I can only stay a moment, I’m just returning this vase to you.” She looked Jack’s way. “Hello, Inspector. I’m sure it’s very good that you’re back.”  
Phryne shot Jack a look. “And all’s right with the world,” she said lightly.  
Jack shrugged, and answered, “We’ll have to cancel the church.”  
They shared a smile at their private joke, but only for a moment, as they were interrupted by the jarring sound of the vase clattering to the floor. They both looked aghast as Prudence misinterpreted their meaning, sputtering at them, “CHURCH???!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all gentle readers for their patience. Now I must devote some time to another project entirely--but I have a feeling that fanfiction will keep calling me back.


End file.
